#‘I was running from your light to the shadows of the East’ ‘if I follow you to the river and oh your shadows they run so deep’

[cabeswaterdrowned]

it just clicked for me that the way more fun to miss is impossible woman you were gone is turn it off two against three is a hope like you etc. the river is supposed to be chasing the night at least partly

[starks-hero]

Avert Your Eyes from Your Demise, Though Lovely It May Be

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x human!Reader

Summary: In which giant spiders aren't the only threat Mirkwood has to offer.

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: they're high on Mirkwood mist the whole time. Do with that what you will.

Translations: Siúlóirí portaigh - bog walkers (Irish) , amrâlimê - my love (Khuzdul) , lansel - love of all loves (Khuzdul)

a/n: I know movie Thorin is described as 5'2ish but I write him as 4'8 - 4'10 because it's more book accurate and because we should embrace this short king. Anyway, I call this 'the intimacy of going insane with your crush.'

You couldn't shake the unease. Even now, as you sat at the edge of a clearance, bark biting harshly into your back, you could almost feel the forest closing in on you. Shadows scurried above you and the air itself was stale.

Your company of fifteen had quickly fallen to a number of just two, with only yourself and Thorin making it through the mist-clouded trails together. Neither of you were certain what had become of the others and given the eeriness of your surroundings, you didn't want to give it too much thought.

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the clearing and the limbs of the trees creaked inward. It was as if the forest was breathing.

“We have to find the others,” you said. Your voice sounded foreign and far off.

Thorin was pacing in front of you, twisting the hilt of his sword in his hand. “They would know well enough not to linger in these woods. We keep heading East.”

“Which way is East?”

“We follow the river.” You didn't miss the beat of uncertainty before Thorin's answer.

You shook your head. “We don't know where it leads.”

“It will lead us away from here which is good enough.”

Almost to emphasize Thorin's point, the surrounding trees creaked and groaned and another shadow scurried overhead. Caution steered your hand to the hilt of your sword and following Thorin's order, you moved on swiftly.

The forest felt too small and too large all at once. Branches knabbed and tore at your clothes and skin, the twisted limbs of rotting trees giving you no option but to duck or crawl beneath their roots. A glance skyward reminded you that this place, in all its foulness, was unending, the tree canopy stretching miles above your head and blackening out the sun's light.

That was if the sun was still up. You'd lost track of the time what seemed like hours ago.

You came to a sudden, harsh stop as your front rather unceremoniously met Thorin's back. With a quiet grunt, you found the reason for stopping was a tangled thicket of twisted branches that now stood before you. The tree, in all its obscure glory, seemed to consume the path entirely, its limbs too thick to cut and trunk too tall to climb. Too tired to think of a solution, you found yourself uncharacteristically willing to give up. Until Thorin shrugged off his furs.

You watched as the grey fabric rolled off his broadened shoulders and revealed his shirt, knotted pattern running up the arms.

“I'll go first,” he took the liberty of explaining as he bunched the furs together and placed them in his pack. “It will be easier for me to get out should I need to.”

You would have liked to argue but Thorin, a regularly stubborn fool, was surprisingly right. He was shorter, his limbs less likely to snag. His dwarven frame would move through the thicket much easier than your own.

He disappeared into the grove, swallowed by bark and darkness and you already found yourself questioning why you let him go alone.

You kicked at the dirt beneath your feet as you waited. Eyes set on the trees, you felt increasingly uneasy. You picked at the leather of your sword sheath. Thorin was a capable warrior and you didn't doubt his ability to defend himself. But something wasn't right, you could feel it, crawling on your skin and putting your hairs on end.

Giving in to impulsiveness, you followed after Thorin.

The branches clawed at your skin and snagged your clothes. You pushed aside what you could, rotting wood giving way easily beneath your palm, but as the many limbs began to swell into trunks, it became increasingly difficult to move. Your chest was pressed uncomfortably against the rough bark. You were never one to fear tight spaces but the sudden inability to take a deep breath came as an unwelcome shock. Just as panic had you reaching for your sword, relief found you in the form of the dwarrow prince.

With renewed determination, you mustered a final push and freed yourself from where you were wedged.

Thorin stood with his back to you, stance stiff. You called his name and he hushed you quickly.

His eyes were set on the tree line ahead of you. His gaze was hard, analytic and you didn't fail to notice how his fingers grazed the hilt of his weapon. He turned to you.

“Do you not hear it?”

“Hear what?”

As if the bugle of battle had been sounded, Thorin's stance shifted and in one swift, fluid movement, he drew his sword. His free hand guided you further behind him. Then, he shot forward, swinging his sword at an invisible target. His expression was one of determination as well as unmistakable fear. Another aimless swing and he turned to you.

“Can you not see it?!” He barked, frustrated at your unwillingness to help.

You raised your head and all but willed yourself to see anything but the winding trails of the forest. But despite how hard you employed your imagination, you saw nothing. Somewhere in the treeline, a bird took flight.

An uncomfortable recollection settled in the forefront of your mind. A shiver ran up your back.

"Thorin," Your hand cautiously fell against his shoulder. He turned to you with fire in his eyes but your expression made him pause. “Gandalf said a dark magic lay over this forest.”

At your words, his defensive stance melted away and defeat took its place. The elvish blade fell from where it was held at his side as he looked around and the fear in his eyes slowly shifted to confusion, then realisation.

“It's toying with our minds?”

You swallowed. The thought made your skin crawl; the idea of the forest as its own conscious entity was a horrifying one. That its magic could sink its claws into your mind and deprive you of your senses, keeping you walking in circles till your feet gave in. The entirety of Mirkwood was one giant spider's web and you hated to think what that made you and Thorin.

“We just need to keep our wits about us and our feet moving forward,” you managed eventually, casting weary glances towards the trees. "Now that we know what's happening we have the upper hand, we stay together, stay vigilant and keep our minds clear."

Thorin felt the sudden need to commend you for your calm demeanor and sudden leadership. But he'd also just attempted to fight a non-existent enemy so he decided saying anything at all was against his better judgment and settled for a curt nod instead.

Your plan fell apart comedically fast. You tried to remain optimistic but as you passed the same tree stump for what must have been the fourth time, you felt as though the forest was laughing at you. Your feet ached as though they'd been walking for days. You could hear each of your breaths echo as they came and the thud of your boots against the earth shook your bones.

The child-like laughter had started not short of an hour ago. Thorin couldn't seem to hear it.

When the rough terrain of rock and dirt softened into the cold, squelching mud of a bog, you both silently agreed that a break was needed. You sat at the end of the wetland, where the moss and reeds sprouted up between damp rocks. The water was gloomy, tinged grey and dark green with a sinister mist resting upon its surface.

The dreariness of the place seemed to seep into your bones.

Thorin sat an arm's length from you, hands braced against his knees as he looked out over the bog with a sullen stare.

“What do you see?” You asked.

“Fire." He said no more and you didn't pry.

In an attempt to ease the aches that had set deep in each of your muscles, you pulled your water canteen from where it hung against your pack. A cool drink of fresh water would be a small but welcome relief that you wouldn't take for granted.

But the liquid was thick and warm as it touched your lips and when you pulled it away it was coloured red. You tossed the canteen away with a grunt of disgust. It unceremoniously met the surface of the water before sinking into the mud.

“We need to leave this place,” you said, hands threading through your hair and pulling at the roots. Thorin didn't argue.

You walked until you felt the leather of your boots threatening to give way. You thought one of the trees you had passed seemed familiar, distinctive enough from the rest of the foliage that it stood out.

“We've been here before,” you said. “We're going round in circles.” You turned to on your heel and found no sign of the dwarf.

“Thorin?”

The eerie silence of the forest echoed back to you.

“Thorin?!”

The feeling of unease returned tenfolds. Shadows crawled above you and the wind quivered through the trees. The mist had worsened, hiding your feet beneath its thickening grey clouds.

But then, like a lifeline being tossed to a drowned sailor at sea, you heard your name. Far off and faint, but your name all the same. Spoken in a voice that flooded you with relief. Calling after him, you followed the resonating sound of his calls until they led you to the point where the water met the soil.

Logic quickly took a back seat as your desperation to find Thorin had you stepping off the path. You sunk immediately, the bog swallowing you up to your knees. You pushed through the thick, sluggish mud, ignoring the burn it caused in the back of your legs. The voice became clearer until his form finally appeared, carved out from the mist.

"Thorin," you greeted him with a smile. But Thorin's expression did not mirror your own. His brows were drawn together and every ounce of air vanished from your lungs when an unsteady hand reached out to cup your cheek.

“I was so worried." Your name fell brokenly from his lips. "I feared I'd lost you.” His hands, shaking and trembling, ran down your arms then back to the swell of your shoulders. His breathing was labored and you could only imagine what Thorin must have witnessed to put the usually stoic king in such a state.

“You're alright? You're not harmed?"

You shook your head and gently grasped Thorin's wrists and he smiled, softer and more sincere than you had ever seen him. The sight made you feel at ease for the first time since stepping foot in the forsaken forest.

"I am glad, Amrâlimê.”

You were not well versed in the culture of dwarves but you were no fool either. You had heard the word spoken among the dwarrow people you'd crossed paths with in the Blue Mountains, noticed the tenderness and sincerity that always encompassed the word, how it was never said with any amount of offhandedness. The word was a confession itself, a confession of the highest kind.

And Thorin had just spoken it to you. As if it were the simplest thing on Earth.

Your confusion must have been evident as Thorin smiled again, the corners of his eyes creasing in amusement.

“You must not look so surprised, my love,” his thumb grazed your jaw. “That I should wish to call you by such a name.”

“What���” You managed in a clumsy attempt to make it known to the dwarf in front of you that you had no idea what was going on. “Thorin.”

The king didn't answer. Rather he kept his eyes fixed on you, coarse fingers working their way from your jaw up to your temple, then brushing just beneath your eye. He touched you as if you were made of something more precious than all the metals held in the great halls of Erebor. And despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind, in that moment you would have been content to stay there.

In the bogs of a cursed forest with your friends lost and your mind bewitched, all so that the king would keep looking at you as he was now.

But your better judgment, (or more likely, the uncomfortable feeling of mud and bog water dampening your clothes,) brought you back to reality. You moved to speak again but Thorin stopped you.

“It's alright, we're safe here, you and I,” he promised. “You needn't think of anything else.”

You tried to ignore how believable his words sounded as you took a step back. Hurt flashed in the dwarf's eyes.

“No, no we need to find the others. The company–”

“–will find their own way,” he calmed you, hand reaching out again to touch your shoulder. It sent a jolt of warmth through you. “You carry so much, endlessly worrying for the well-being of others. But you needn't burden yourself any longer, lansel. You know what it is you desire, what you deserve. So take it.”

You closed your eyes at his words. His hand found the back of your neck and you allowed him to draw you in closer.

“Let it be just us. Stay with me, Amrâlimê. That's all I ask.”

You had never felt such temptation in all your years. Would it truly be so wrong of you? To allow yourself to have this after all you'd persevered. You had long given up trying to convince yourself that you felt something for the dwarven king. That his bravery, stoicism, and unbridled loyalty to his people didn't fascinate you. You had wanted Thorin since not long after the journey's beginning. And now he wanted you too. There was no reason to keep this from yourself, no reason you shouldn't have it.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, was the persistent reminder that something was wrong. A reminder that resurfaced in the form of Bombur's cooking and Bofur's songs and Balin's stories and Bilbo's immeasurable trust in you. Your friends were still lost and that proved enough to bring you back to rationality.

“Thorin,” you started sternly.

“Forget them,” he said, as if he already knew what you were going to say. “Forget everything else. It is just us now. All is as it should be.”

You felt a tinge of discomfort at his words and you took another step back. Thorin would never forsake his kin, not if he was in his right mind. He traced your cheek again and this time you grasped his arm in a strong enough hold to pull it away.

You caught sight of his hand out of the corner of your eye and what you saw made you feel ill. The skin was rotting, bones threatening to tear through their paper-thin bonds. The fabric of Thorin's clothes had vanished and your nails had sunk into the rotting flesh which had begun to fall way in your grip.

You yanked your hand back in disgust, tripping and falling backward into the water at the sight of the creature. A gaping hole sat in the center of its face where you imagined its nose should be and a rigid crack served as its mouth. Green threads of damp mossy hair sprouted from its head and hung in front of the hollow cavities of its eyes.

An Siúlóir Portaigh. A creature you hadn't crossed paths with since you'd last traveled East of Gondor.

A bony hand reached out for you and you shot yourself backward, scrambling to your feet. Thorin's deep voice had been replaced with a low rasping gurgle, the sound growing louder as the creature lunged for you.

You turned and ran.

Thorin's voice had grown hoarse from calling your name.

He had turned away for one moment and you were gone and now as he searched, he feared to think what may have become of you.

His feet sunk into the ground beneath him, water reaching his ankles and soaking through his boots. Reeds sprouted up from the water, the smallest brushing his knees and the tallest towering a foot above his head. With a grunt, he pushed on.

The wind howled as it passed through the hollow chamber of the reeds and Thorin felt the hair on his neck stand up. Then, a shadow passed in front of him. He instinctively reached for his blade. It pushed through the long grass as it approached him but the glint of familiar armor has him dropping his sword.

“Thorin!” You beamed as you reached him. “You're alright. I lost sight of you in the fog.” You grabbed hold of his arms and Thorin was taken back by your sudden brashness. “I'm so glad I found you.”

He watched you for a moment, his joy at finding you unharmed outweighing the odd tinge of suspicion he felt. He cleared his throat and tilted his head forward in a curt nod.

“We must get back to the others.”

He turned to walk on but your arms held him in place.

“You needn't worry, they'll be alright,” you said casually. “As will we.”

Thorin offered a baffled look that doubled as a warning. He was uncertain what had caused your uncharacteristic forwardness and in all honesty, wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

You raised your head skyward and smiled again. With no shortage of confusion, Thorin followed your gaze

The sun had come back up and its light was seeping through the leaves above his head. The forest's canopy turned golden, as if set alight by dragon fire. Thorin's expression softened.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Your hand found his own. “We could stay here, Thorin. You and I. Imagine it.”

Thorin blinked. He could stay here, with you. He could tell you everything he'd been longing to say since the escape from the goblin tunnels and the orc ambush on the cliffside. After all, why shouldn't he? Did he not deserve this after so many hardships? You could truly be together, you could offer him a new start, a new home– Thorin blinked again.

“And what of Erebor?”

You seemed amused by his question. You brushed his braid away from where it hung against his jaw and Thorin surprisingly let it happen.

“Erebor lies half a world away, a buried kingdom of dust and despair in the clutches of a dragon. Is it truly worth so much? Worth so many lives lost,” you asked. “We have everything we need here.”

And Thorin could only think about how right you were; your hands in his, the feel of your fingers brushing his hair, the rising sun and golden leaves– he could want for nothing else.

“Do you not want for this?”

“I–” he tried.

“You have done honorably by your people, Thorin, but you have been selfless for far too long.” He closed his eyes as you spoke. “Choose not what is right by them but by you. No more pain, no more fear.” He could feel your breath against his cheek. “Just us. Stay with me, my love.”

And Thorin decided in that moment that he would.

Your legs ached and your lungs burned.

The bog was becoming harder and harder to navigate but you were yet to find Thorin and you did not plan on stopping till you were certain he was safe.

The water grew shallower and you took it as a blessing. With your lower half free of the mud, you drew your sword. You rounded the trunk of a decaying tree and were met with a horrific sight.

Thorin, with decaying hands grasped round his neck and a deformed maw nearing his face. Thorin stood in a trance, eyes glossed over and body stiff. The siúlóir's mouth widened, rotting skin tearing as it did. Its nails dug into the side of Thorin's neck, harsh enough to draw blood. Still, he didn't move.

You acted on impulse. With a quick lunge forward, you drove your sword through the creatures back, twisting it twice before pushing it deeper.

Its screech was inhumane. It grasped at its wounds, its guttural yowls putting your hairs on end. You ran it through again. The siúlóir went quiet and Thorin screamed out.

“No!” His voice was distraught, his hands grasping at the creature as it slumped to the ground. “No–!”

“Thorin!” You grabbed his shoulder and roughly yanked him back. He raised his head and looked at you as though he'd seen a ghost. “It's alright– it's alright, it's me.”

His gaze fell back to the creature at your feet and given the twist of horror and disgust in his expression you figured he was now seeing it in its true form.

“Siúlóirí portaigh,” you muttered under your breath. “Bog walkers.”

Thorin blinked before taking in his surroundings with frantic eyes. He regarded you with a cautionary look. He said your name and when you nodded, you saw his stance relax slightly. His fear turned to confusion. “What–”

“They were going to drown us,” you answered plainly. You nudged the creature's shoulder with your heel and watched it sink a few inches into the water. “We need to go, this place will be crawling with them.”

Thorin wanted to question how you knew so much about such monsters but given how desperately you wanted to leave their hunting ground, he prioritized.

He offered one last glance at the creature, body now mostly submerged in the sullen water. He shuddered at how well the creature had worn your face, how much its voice had mimicked your own. How easily fooled he'd been.

He silently followed after you.

You walked until the mud on your clothes had hardened and the silk webs coating the trees had all but vanished. The leaf canopy above you had thinned out and the surrounding forest was now warm with the sun's light. The moment you heard a nearby bird song, you knew the dangers of Mirkwood had passed.

Thorin rested against the trunk of a sapling. His gaze was focused on something over your shoulder but given the blankness of his stare, you knew he wasn't looking at anything at all. You took a seat at his side and began to tend to his wound.

A nasty gash ran from the back of his neck to just below his throat. You worked silently. Thorin didn't even seem to notice until you applied a fraction too much pressure and with a sharp intake of breath, he turned to you.

“Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Thorin spoke.

“What did you see?” he asked you. “That creature, it toyed with my mind, showed me things I longed for that I hadn't even admitted to myself. So what did it show you?”

“Nothing.” The lie came easy. “Nothing of worth. I've dealt with siúlóirí before, they feed you lies, draw you in and then drown you before you even realise you're in danger. Whatever you seen, I wouldn't linger on it.”

Thorin seemed almost saddened by your answer. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, he gently brushed your hand away and got to his feet.

“We keep heading East.” The usual stoicism had returned to his voice. “Dwalin would know to do the same. If we do not regroup with the company in a day's time we head back the way we came and search.”

You nodded and got to your feet like a soldier following orders.

And as you fell into step beside the dwarf you thought maybe it would be best to take your own advice. To pass what you'd seen off as baseless lies not worth thinking about. But the feel of Thorin's shoulders brushing your arm reminded you that would be no easy task.

You entered Mirkwood wondering if what you felt for the dwarven king was more than just fondness. Now you were certain.

quick authors note: I invented the siúlóirí an portaigh for this fic and the name translates to ‘bog walkers/walkers of the bog’ in Irish. It was pretty fun combining two of my interests, writing and folklore, to create my own mythological creature :)

[luffy-luvr]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | 𝐌𝐫. 𝟕

❛ YOU CAN COME OUT NOW. ❜

( Episode 1 : ROMANCE DAWN )

[ 🏴‍☠️🗡️ ]

SIXIS ISLAND

On an island in the East Blue came along two siblings, both sharing the same shade of green hair, walking side by side. The older brother had three swords on one hip while the younger sister had two swords, one on each hip.

Walking until they've reached the end of the trail. Kneeling down, Momo passed a match box to her brother, lighting up two candles. One for their childhood friend, Kuina. The other for the person following them.

"You can come out now." Zoro said in a low voice. A mysterious man with a '7' on his right face cheek and a bad haircut. "People often visit shrines to light candles for those they've lost." the man said as he came out from the shadows. "Who are yours for?" he questioned.

Momo knew Kuina was a special person to Zoro. She trained with him for a long time. Momo didn't really like Kuina, she considered her as a 'brother stealer'. "This one is for someone we knew a long time ago." Zoro responded for both of us in a dry tone.

"And the other?" the unknown man questioned again. "You've been following us for three days." Zoro stood up to his side, with his hands on the kashira of his swords. "What do you want?" he demanded. "You two may call me Mr. 7. I represent an organization known as Baroque Works." the man introduces himself. Mr 7 pulls out two cards both having the same design, extending his arm. "We are interested in your twos unique sets of skills, pirates hunters Roronoa Zoro and Roronoa Momo."

Now facing Mr. 7 Zoro questions the man one more time " What are you? Some band of assassins?" Mr 7 replies with a smirk plastered on his face "We are much, much more. You should know it's a high honor to be asked to join our ranks." Zoro turned around to see Momo still kneeled down praying to the candle. "We kind of got our own thing going on"

Mr 7 shook his head still trying to convince the siblings to join, "Membership would make you siblings more invincible, more feared."

Zoro had his head down, not wanting to deal with him any longer, "Does it come with a free face tattoo? My favorite is number 1." he said sticking his middle finger up. He squatted down next to Momo with one hand brushing through her hair. Mr 7 didn't seem to take 'no' for an answer and kept bothering them. "To turn down Baroque Works is to forfeit your life."

Hearing that made Momo reach for her sword, Zoro reached out to put a hand on her hand meaning, 'Don't worry about it'. "If they were that serious, they should've sent someone better than Number 7." Zoro retorted.

Hearing that made Mr. 7 furious, he unleashed his swords ready to come at Zoro, he threw his swords in attempt to attack Zoro, of course he blocked it. Mr. 7 yelled as he was pushed back.

Zoro pushed one of his swords back into his sheath as Mr. 7 came running towards him, blocking his every attack until he unleashed two of his three swords attacking Mr. 7. His swords managed to swiftly blow out every other candle except Kuina's and Mr. 7's. The man with a weird haircut looked around seeing the candles out, with a scowl on his face, he charged up to Zoro, however he still blocked his attacks sending Mr. 7 back where he started.

One last time Mr. 7 swinged at Zoro with all his might, leaving his stomach as an open target leading him to be cut in half. Zoro closed his eyes and sighed, knowing he was going to be one to clean up this mess.

"You know, you could've just stabbed him. So you didn't make a mess." Momo sighed, standing up and facing the last two candles reaching for her sword, swinging it making the flaming candle go out.

•••

[genshin-scenarios]

Chapter 3: unfurling flight

Reembarking Starlight Masterlist

Characters: Paimon, Amber, Klee, Kaeya

Chapter 2 <-

-> Chapter 4

You gaze zones in on the three apples catapulted into the air, followed by excited cheers; watching their trajectory and waiting until they line up just right, you release an arc of anemo from your hands in a wide, sweeping motion. 

The apples are sliced in half by a sharp blade of wind, plopping to the ground. Paimon flies to inspect them and gives a thumbs up.

“They’re intact!” She reports. Amber pumps her fist in triumph. Klee runs to you excitedly. 

“Can we feed the horses now?” Klee blinks up at you with pleading eyes, which Amber redirects by clearing her throat and pointing at the still-whole vegetable crate.

“We need to give them some healthy things, too.” The outrider hums, familiar with Klee’s tendency to only give them ‘tasty’ treats. “Isn’t this already more fun than watching me chop them up?”

“But big-sister Amber won’t let me blast them too…”

You laugh, ruffling Klee’s hair. “We can collect fish together another time! Unfortunately, the horses don’t need roasted snacks.”

At the invitation of Amber (who heard of you entertaining the children in the city square), the four of you are now outside the knights’ stables, practising your long-distance aim while preparing treats for the cavalry’s noble steeds. 

Granted, there are only a handful of horses left since the bulk of them are on Varka’s expedition—but you’ll never turn down an opportunity to train and play fruit-ninja in real life!

“Oh? What’s this party here?” A smooth voice enters, accompanied by an eyepatch and white tufted scarf. Kaeya is carrying riding gear on top of his right shoulder as Klee hurdles towards him happily, earning a chuckle.

“Kaeya!” Klee hugs him greeting. “We’re making the horses snacks!”

“If you feed them too much, they’ll become too plump.” He chides playfully, sweeping her hair out of her face and reminding her not to cause trouble. “I’d love to stay, but I have something to do in the wilderness—so I must deprive you of one trusty steed.”

“Do you need any help?” Amber asks. Kaeya shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. It just has to do with that mysterious creature destroying agricultural fields.” He tacks up a chestnut stallion, allowing Klee to pet it goodbye before adjusting the straps and swinging up with ease. “Speaking of, it’s been active as of late, so it'll probably be best to give the citizens a warning to stay indoors.” His periwinkle gaze lands on you and Paimon, apologising for the hasty first-meet. “Perhaps another time we can exchange stories about your travels! I have quite a few of my own.”

“Tall-tales,” Amber informs quietly on the side. “But kids love them.”

Shortly after Kaeya departs, a shadow envelops the world briefly, catching your eye. With a bucket of water in your arms, you freeze as you spot its source, numbly calling for Amber and gesturing at the horizon.

“It’s the dragon of the east!” Her eyes widened, making a split-second decision to abandon the horse-treats and give Klee a mission.

“Klee, I need you to get back to headquarters and tell Jean a dragon has been spotted.” Amber instructs, keeping her tone light but serious, like she’s sending Klee on a quest. “I’ll be busy getting civilians indoors, so you’ll have to do this for me, alright?” 

You volunteer to make sure there are no stragglers outside of the city’s north. The system creates a trail of golden light which winds along the path in front of you, confirming that finding Dvalin was your next course of action.

With your heart in your throat, you trudge in the direction of the Whispering Woods.

-

Anemo traces are the first thing that greet you, left in the shape of teal footsteps at the mouth of the trees. With a reminder for Paimon to remain silent, the two of you creep around until you reach a clearing that rumbles with the reptilian growl of a dragon—Dvalin, who seems to be communicating with a green-cloaked bard.

Despite the azure dragon being as large as a line of buildings, Venti speaks to him with an undeterred, coaxing tone. You and Paimon bate your breaths, but your hidden spot is exposed when the glowing accents on your clothing begin to shine, reacting to Venti’s presence.

Suddenly, Venti’s upturned palm pulses with a short burst of anemo, surprising the archon himself. This is all it takes to frighten Dvalin, who unleashes a startled roar.

“Who's there?!” Venti jumps back to avoid the dragon’s snapping teeth. His eyes widen when he spots you, before glancing at Dvalin one last time and teleporting away. 

With your ears still ringing from Dvalin’s takeoff, you find yet another teardrop crystal floating where he once stood.

‘Barbatos—have you forsaken me too?’

-

“Traveler! There you are.” Amber runs to you when you return to the city. “Could you make sure the Cathedral’s floor is clear? It looks like the storm is starting to pick up.”

“What do you mean? The sky is still…” Right as Paimon gazes upward, she lets out an alarmed squeak. “It’s getting dark!”

The clouds are moving at an unnatural speed, gathering into dark grey patterns as a tornado begins to build. You and Paimon hurry to the plaza where Barbatos’ statue and the Cathedral is, helping citizens get into shelter as the wind grows harsh. You use your elemental sight to check for people in your limited visibility, but aren’t exactly sure what happened next.

One moment you’re standing on your feet, and the next you’re snatched into the air as a phantom eats up the light, picking you up by the feet into a current of battling shadows. 

Your world spins as you’re flung around the tornado. You’re carried higher and higher until you’re lobbed out with just enough momentum to be blinded by sunlight. Up here, you are above the clouds—above the storm, where Dvalin is circling in agitation.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the brightness and sheer cold. Your wind glider unfurls into position as you use your arms to balance and stay in one place, feeling a mix of terror and awe as your legs dangle above the clouds. A gentle current supports you, and that’s when a voice enters your head.

‘I’m preventing your fall with the power of a thousand winds.’ Venti gently informs. ‘Now harness the anemo energy around you. Grasp it, envision it forming, and let it fly.’

You hear the rumble of Dvalin’s growl from somewhere behind you, kicking your way into a sideways spin just in time to dodge.

‘Oh? You’re even more agile than I thought.’

“You really…” Tears prick at your eyes from the harsh altitude. “Okay, okay. Harness the energy. Try not to pass out.”

You take a few steadying breaths, digging into the ball of tension in your stomach as you narrow your gaze at Dvalin’s spine. Envision the wind around you glowing and absorbing into your body. Then…

Fire.

You feel the recoil of your attack before noticing the sapphire energy itself. Your body glows with elemental power as bullets of anemo fly, steering with your arms as you dive after Dvalin. A mix of fear and adrenaline coils in your chest when you pass through a speed-boosting current, followed by an enraged roar.

It’s as if the anemo around you was bending to your subconscious mind. Up and down you follow Dvalin in the sky, until he grows aggravated enough to flee where your glider can’t follow.

The pressure from his wings launches you backward, puncturing your focus and causing the teal aura around you to fade. You float back down to Barbatos’ statue in the plaza as the atmosphere calms, just in time for your friends to spot you and rush to make sure you’re alright. 

The moment your feet touch the ground, your knees give out and a sharp pain stabs your chest. It’s just from the high altitude, you’re sure, but you allow Paimon and Amber’s to support your weight as you catch your breath. 

Slow clapping enters, and you’re greeted by Kaeya who wears an impressed smile on his lips. His tall frame easily supports you as he takes over Paimon’s side, and informs you that Jean has requested your presence.

“So you actually have the power to go up against a dragon.” Kaeya muses, clever eye glinting. “But have the winds brought us a new hero… or a new storm?”

[qilingxiong]

i.

It's only on the third day of passing neverending yellow-green fields wavering in summer heat, windows down in this pickup truck that must be decades old with its glossy paint and chrome and proud growl of an engine, that Wu Xie finally asks Hei Xiazi where they're going.

"There's a map in the glove compartment," Hei Xiazi says, tapping cigarette ash out into the wind, other hand on the steering wheel. "You said your English is good, right? Read it and find the towns we've been through."

Wu Xie fishes out the map, tattered and deeply creased, apparently kept without use. A pen is always with him; he circles each town or city whose name he recognizes, memorized from the flickering signs of motels or general stores they've stopped at, or welcoming boards along the highways that are probably intended to be cheerful but only bear worn-down facades of optimism in their neglect. Analysis kicks in next, attempting to piece together the logic from the locations he's marked. The pattern he finds is—

"There is no pattern." Wu Xie looks up. "We drove east after going south, but you're just stopping in random places."

"Congratulations, you get a prize," Hei Xiazi says, semi-deadpan, hair flown loose from its knot whipping into his face. "Can't have your future actions be predicted if you don't know what they are, either."

"But that means you don't know when we're going to stop," Wu Xie says. The wind bites at him all of a sudden, despite the temperature outside. He pulls his flannel more closely around himself.

Hei Xiazi, still wearing only a tank top, tan lines at his wrists fading out of contrast, shakes his head. "Keep moving and we'll figure out the rest later. We don't know how far behind they are."

"Do we really have to be this paranoid?"

"You haven't even been able to see your enemy, or what it is. Do you want the monsters to catch up to you, or would you rather be safe than sorry?" Hei Xiazi flicks his cigarette butt out the window.

Wu Xie thinks of the shadows, the closest way he can describe them, that he'd seen on the last night in his own home, and shuts his mouth. He settles instead for noisily stuffing the map back into the glove compartment.

"So if there's no end to this, why would you help me?" Hei Xiazi, as far as Wu Xie has gathered, is a man who's lived from job to job, whatever's in between not enough to keep him still. "I don't even know when I'll be able to pay you, if that's what you want." The money on his cards has been going toward gasoline, food, the motels they can find that are cheap but clean and won't care about faces or what's left of Wu Xie's accent before the fact that he can pay.

Hei Xiazi snorts. "You didn't think about this earlier?"

"I wasn't in the mood to be asking questions." And Hei Xiazi had told him not to, anyway, those few nights ago when Wu Xie woke up to half of his house in flames and something at his door, swallowing the light, and in the smoke had appeared Hei Xiazi, duffle bag in one hand and the other grabbing at Wu Xie's wrist, ordering him to run.

He'd bit his tongue, one of the rare occasions where fear had well and truly drowned his curiosity, and followed. From foot, to car, to across a border, and now to this truck.

Hei Xiazi reaches for the box of cigarettes in the cupholder. "Light me another one, will you?"

Wu Xie grabs the lighter from the inner pocket of Hei Xiazi's leather jacket, fallen to the floor, and touches it to a fresh cigarette. "You didn't answer my question."

Hei Xiazi just sighs, blowing thin smoke out and away, so Wu Xie continues: "You're just a work friend of my uncle's and you barely know me. Why would you care this much about saving me?"

"Know you?" Hei Xiazi leans back and laughs, softly, dog tags clinking against his chest. "Maybe I don't really know you, but I know about you. I know you're naive, and you've never had to pay the price for learning too much. I know you looked into secrets about your uncle's work that you shouldn't have. I know you still don't understand what you saw and you're desperate to find out, but you dread looking back. And most of all, I know you don't want to die. Is that enough?"

He glances at Wu Xie. "You don't want to die, do you, Xiao-sanye? Tell me now, because it'll save me a lot of trouble if this isn't something you want to fight for."

"I-" Wu Xie stares at him. "No, I don't want to die," he says, quietly.

"Good." Hei Xiazi jabs at the volume dial on the dash. Rock music blares out from the speakers, from whichever cassette was left in there from the box of tapes in the backseat. "Glad we're clear on that. Communication is key."

"For the third fucking time, why are you helping me?" Wu Xie reaches for the dial, turns the music off again, glares. This time Hei Xiazi doesn't react, staring ahead at the road, lined pavement flying past in the lenses of his sunglasses.

"If I said it was boredom, would you believe me?" he says, after a minute.

In this moment maybe Wu Xie almost could, listening to the level current of Hei Xiazi's voice. How old is he? If he were a stranger Wu Xie would place him in his mid-thirties, perhaps, but the impression of a man in black and sunglasses smeared across the borders of his memory reaches too far back for Hei Xiazi to be exactly as old as he looks.

At what age can you possibly begin to treat running for your life like this with indifference? With amusement? Wu Xie is twenty-six, and the world is huge. The world is mysterious. The world is fracturing and he's trying not to cut himself on the shards.

"No," he tells Hei Xiazi. "it can't just be boredom. But it's not money, either."

The corner of Hei Xiazi's mouth tilts upwards.

"You're smart." He pauses to take a drag from the cigarette. "Believe what I said anyway. You're better off like that."

"What's that supposed to me—" Wu Xie starts, before Hei Xiazi cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively.

"Believe that, or make up your own reasoning because I know you'll die without it. Either one will do." He adjusts his sunglasses in the rearview mirror. "But what matters, for you, is that you trust me to keep you alive regardless. Trust me completely, or else I won't be able to. Can you do that, Xiao-sanye?"

The evening Hei Xiazi tossed their bags into this truck, retrieved from a seemingly innocuous lot in an industrial suburb, Wu Xie caught a glimpse of the box concealed beneath the panels of the bed. If Hei Xiazi wanted him dead, he'd have had the tools and chances to do it at least several times over already.

Wu Xie nods.

Hei Xiazi smiles, wide enough to catch a glimpse of a crooked tooth, and turns the music on once more.

The road rambles on.

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 29: I Will Take You Home

~2270 words

CW: discussion of suicide (but we know it’s actually the) aftermath of attempted murder by drugging, sedation, medical setting

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~~~

“Captain Isles!”

Matthew’s voice boomed through the parking garage. He’d been loitering by Isles’ white Lincoln Aviator for the last hour, waiting for the Captain to get out of work.

“Beck.” Isles slowed his approach, stopping a few yards away from Matthew.

“I want to see Simon,” Matthew demanded, “I hear you’re the man to talk to.”

Isles nodded slowly.

“He wants to see you too.”

This response caught Matthew off guard.

“You’ll let me?”

“You, and getting out, were all he would ever ask about, before…” He trailed off, looking away.

“How is he?” Matthew asked, his voice a little softer.

“Not good,” Isles admitted, “They keep him pretty sedated for his own safety, and it’s… not pretty.”

“When can I see him?”

Isles met his gaze, solemn and steady.

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.”

~~~

Matthew walked quickly enough to make the visitor’s tag bounce where it was clipped to the collar of his light spring jacket. Isles strode alongside him, grim and quiet, as they were led by an orderly through twisting hallways and multiple security doors. The building had a hint of dinginess and a heavy silence aside from their footsteps that made Matthew nervous.

“How much research did you do on this place before you put him here?” Matthew asked.

“It’s the only facility on the east coast that’s impervious to vampires,” Isles replied, “That was all that mattered to me. At the time.”

Matthew believed in the level of security. They had passed armed guards with dogs outside, and they each had to do a blood test at reception before being let through a pair of heavy gates.

It all hardly mattered if someone was in more danger from themselves than a vampire.

They rounded a corner and a gray-haired man in a doctor’s coat fell into step with them.

“Captain Isles, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” The doctor was obviously trying to sound pleased to see Isles, and was failing miserably. “Who’s your friend?”

Isles slowed his pace considerably.

“Dr Deckard, this is… Matthew Beck.”

The doctor stopped short.

“Captain, I thought we were in agreement that Beck’s presence would be dangerous for Simon.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Isles said flatly.

Matthew watched the exchange, a little offended that neither were directly acknowledging him.

“Simon is far too vulnerable for this right now, this is something I’d need weeks to prepare him for, at the very least.” Dr Deckard was arguing, but shrinking back at the same time, fiddling with his tie and running a hand through his thin hair. In contrast, Isles stood tall and radiated authority.

“I think I get the final say here,” the Captain said.

“Y-yes, of course.” Dr Deckard finally cast Matthew a brief glance, then turned on his heel to lead them onwards. “This way, gentlemen.”

Simon’s room was only a few doors further; Dr Deckard unlocked it with a keycard and held the door for Isles and Matthew. Matthew’s heart pounded as he followed the Captain in. Four months. He hadn’t seen Simon in four months, and now they were going to be in the same room together. Would he panic? Would Simon panic? Or would it be joyful? Would they kiss? Would Simon reject him? Would -

Simon lay on his back in the bed, his head turned towards them and his eyes closed. His expression was soft, peaceful, and his face was full and round like it should be, not the gaunt shadowy thing Matthew had seen last. His wrists were restrained to the bed frame, but the straps were thickly padded and not too tight.

He looked okay. Not horrible, not perfect, but safe. Alive.

The only thing that caught Matthew off guard was Simon’s hair: it had been shaved recently, and was currently a shadow of peach fuzz.

“His hair, what-” he mumbled, unable to look away from Simon’s unconscious form.

“After he took the pills, he fell and hit his head rather badly. We needed his hair out of the way to stitch it up.” Dr Decker explained, watching Matthew carefully.

“Pills?” A lump formed in Matthew’s throat.

“Yes. He stole them from the pharmacy.”

Matthew took a shuddering breath.

“Is he - will he wake up? Can I talk to him?”

“He’ll be foggy, but yes. But you should know,” Dr Deckard warned, “He’s been quite the chronic liar during his stay here. I wouldn’t put much stock in anything he says, particularly under the effects of the sedative.”

Simon: a liar, a thief, and suicidal. Matthew couldn’t wrap his head around it. He pulled up a chair and sat as close as he could to Simon’s bedside, right in front of Simon’s face. Isles and the doctor hung back, observing.

“Simon?” Matthew reached over and took Simon’s hand in his. It was limp and cool. “Simon, I’m here.” Simon’s fingers twitched and Matthew gave them a gentle squeeze. Simon’s eyelids fluttered and Matthew’s heart soared.

“There you are, there you are.”

Simon’s eyes opened, and met Matthew’s.

Nothing.

Simon stared blankly, with no recognition. Matthew’s guts twisted and plunged with horror, and he sat frozen for a long second. Then three. Then five.

Then Simon’s eyes widened.

“Mm’thew,” he whispered.

Matthew sobbed with relief.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m here!”

“Matthew,” Simon rasped, his eyes filling with tears, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

I’m sorry, Matthew, I didn’t mean it, please don’t be mad -

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Matthew soothed, suppressing the memory, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” He twisted in his seat to glare at Isles.

“We’re taking him home. Today.”

Isles shook his head.

“There are still vampires-”

“Fuck the list!” Matthew snapped, and Simon’s fingers flinched within his, “This place is going to kill him before any of them do.”

“Simon is in a very fragile state at the moment,” Dr Deckard cut in, “I would not recommend moving him.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Simon was still whispering apologies.

Isles looked back and forth between them all, conflicted.

“Cap, you know it’s the right thing to do.”

Isles’ gaze settled on Simon, his brow heavy. He took a short breath.

“Fine. But he stays with me.”

That was good enough for Matthew. He turned back to Simon.

“You hear that? You’re…” But then he heard what Simon was saying.

“I cheated on you, I’m so sorry Matthew, I cheated on you, I had to…”

“Woah, hey,” Matthew reached out to caress Simon’s head with his free hand, “What do you mean, what happened?”

“With, with an orderly, Matthew, I had to,” mumbled Simon. Matthew’s head snapped back around to glare at Dr Deckard.

“What the hell is he talking about?”

“Like I said,” Dr Deckard shrugged innocently, “He lies, for attention, to try and get special treatment. What he’s saying is impossible, the whole facility is covered in cameras that are observed at all times, and all our staff and faculty are thoroughly vetted. I’m sorry, but he’s lying to you.”

“Why would he tell me a lie that would upset me?”

“More likely, he’s trying to make me and the employees here look bad.” the doctor smiled sadly. “It’s not uncommon for patients like him to have a victim complex. You coming to rescue him and infantilize him is exactly what he wants. I strongly recommend against removing him from my care at this time.”

“Isles?” Matthew looked to the Captain. Isles turned to Dr Deckard.

“Please bring me whatever paperwork I need to have him released,” he requested.

“Alright, but you’re just going to bring him back in a week or so when you realize you can’t handle him, and I’ll have to start back at square one.”

“Just do it. Please.”

Dr Deckard left in a huff. Matthew ignored him, turning his attention back to Simon. Simon had fallen back asleep, tears dried on his face, so Matthew just gently stroked his knuckles and his brow and waited. Eventually a nurse arrived with a clipboard full of paperwork for Isles. After that, everything happened rather quickly. A wheelchair was brought, and a pair of orderlies unstrapped Simon from the bed and moved him to the chair. Matthew winced when he saw the back of Simon’s head when it lolled forward; there was a line of thick stitches. Then Simon lifted his head, and mumbled incoherent questions as they wheeled him out of the building. Matthew stuck right by him, speaking soothing words and touching his shoulder. It felt like they were doing something illegal, somehow, as they ushered him quickly out of the maw of the fortress and to the sunny parking lot. Matthew shooed the orderlies away and lifted Simon into Isles’ car himself, and got in the back seat with him. Isles got into the driver’s seat, depositing a plastic bag full of Simon’s winter clothes from four months ago into the passenger seat. Matthew buckled Simon in then laid him down with his head on Matthew’s thigh. Simon's eyes blinked open, glassy and soft.

“Are we going home?” he murmured.

Matthew wondered what ‘home’ he was imagining - the VIU? Their Boston studio? Maybe even Lara’s house, or his childhood home.

“You’re going to stay with Isles for a while,” Matthew said as the car started to move, “You’re never going back to Summerwhite, okay?”

Simon’s foggy gaze drifted across Matthew’s face.

“Which one are you?” he mumbled, his brows pinching slightly.

“I…” Matthew glanced up at Isles - the captain was focused on the road. “It’s me, Simon. I’m human, it’s me.”

“Oh… Good.” But Simon didn’t sound relieved. Mildly disturbed, Matthew stroked Simon’s face in what he hoped was a calming way. Simon relaxed a little, his forehead softening and his eyes fluttering closed.

Fort Summerwhite was an hour and a half west of DC, and they made good time to Isles’ house. The two bedroom blue craftsman was tiny, but having a detached home with its own backyard this close to the capitol was a massive luxury. Matthew scooped Simon up and carried him up the steps to the wide porch bridal style while Isles unlocked the door.

“Put him in my room for now, in the back to the right,” Isles said, holding open the door, “It’ll take me a minute to set up the pull-out.”

Matthew made his way to Isles’ bedroom, his arms straining under Simon’s weight. His healthy weight, he reminded himself, not like -

Pressing his fingers into the indents of ribs. Pinching skin just to watch how long it took the color to come back.

Matthew laid Simon down on Isle’s bed and jumped back like he’d been burned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Not now. Get it together.

He double checked that Simon was lying comfortably and hurried back out of the bedroom. He took a moment to glance around the house; he’d never been there before. It smacked of someone who wanted to look like marriage material, but hadn’t quite stuck the landing. It was a little over decorated here, a little under decorated there. Lots of beiges and blues and Target throw pillows. He found Isles in the second bedroom that he had outfitted as an office, unfolding a small couch out into a bed. Matthew wordlessly assisted, catching the extension and lowering it down.

“Now I just need to remember where I stashed the sheets for this thing,” Isles muttered.

“Do you have enough food for two people? If you don’t mind me borrowing your car, I could make a grocery run,” Matthew offered, eager to help in any way he could think of.

“Actually, Beck… Matthew, I…” Isles looked at him, searching for the words. Matthew’s heart sank.

“No.”

“Matthew, I’m going to follow Dr Deckard’s recommendation. I don’t think you should be around Simon.”

“I’m not a vampire anymore! I pose no threat, none at all.”

“You still pose a threat to his mental health,” Isles argued, “I don’t want you playing with his emotions.”

“Playing with his emotions? Cap, you really think I would do that?” Matthew asked, incredulous. “I love him, I need to be here for him!”

Isles paused, frowning - but didn’t budge.

“No. You need to call someone to come pick you up, I don’t want you here when he comes to.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Matthew demanded, raising his voice. “Shouldn’t Simon get a say in this?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Isles’ voice was immediately louder than his, “And Simon is under my custody, it’s my responsibility to keep him safe.”

“You really think I’m that dangerous?”

“Yes!” Isles hollered, “Now get out of my house before I have you arrested for trespassing!”

Matthew froze. He was still on probation from the rehab facility, any trouble with the law and he would go right back. No phone calls. No dad. And an even slimmer chance of getting to see Simon again.

“What even was this, then?” he asked, his voice wobbling, “Why even let me come with you?”

Isles glowered at him.

“It was a mistake. He’s better off without you.”

“No, I…”

“He’s better off. Without you.”

Letting Isles see him cry would be beyond humiliating, so Matthew turned and fled. He pulled his phone out of his pocket - an old smartphone with a cracked screen that his dad had enough foresight to resurrect and set up for him before he got out - and dialed Gina.

“Yellow?”

“I’m at Isles’, can you come pick me up?” Matthew sobbed.

“I can come right now. What happened?”

“I can’t, I can’t, please, just… Get here soon.”

~~~

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Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[siribear]

in the dark | there are no strangers |

just close your eyes and sleep. it's that easy. you've done it so many times before. just... please, maker just sleep.

amell lies on her back, alone, in her tent. blonde hair undone and spilling over the edge of her bedroll like ink. like blood.

no, not like blood. like - good things. puddles of water after a hot bath. petals scattered after a gust of wind.

she presses the heel of her palm against her eyes until she sees stars. count these, she tells herself. count them until you fall asleep -

the stars wink out, one by one, and open again as thousands of eyes. in them, she sees loghain, the fear etched into his face until the avatar of nightmare swallows him whole.

amell wakes with a gasp, kicking wildly to free herself from the blankets tangled around her legs. sweat sticks her clothes against her skin, tight and oppressive, so she unties the laces of her tent flap and welcomes in even the softest breeze.

outside, an inquisition soldier patrols the edge of camp. the only sound is the cricket song and bull snoring in a tent across the way. still dark, the torch light doesn't pierce the darkness surrounding camp. the patrolling soldier gives her a polite nod when he notices her, and she returns it before shuttering herself away once more.

this can't keep on, she thinks. maybe - maybe she can sleep with here eyes open? once upon a time, one of her fellow apprentices tried such a thing. eyes wide open, a book open to a page important to their alchemy exam. for a week, he could only speak in sentences on the page. he failed the exam.

amell sits cross legged in the middle of her tent and sobs.

-

amell is the wax of a candle burning at both ends. she is the cliffs of the stormcoast, and every second a wave wearing her away.

nanette departs from them with another group of inquisition soldiers that will take her to orlais. a family member will take her in, and vivienne has pulled one of her many strings to secure the girl a tutor for her own safety.

but they are still days away from the safety of skyhold, and the afternoon they make their way east, they're ambushed by more red templars.

when a smite hits her mid-spell and severs her connection with the fade, her first thought is relief. it's so quiet, even with dorian's spellfire and the thunk of varric's crossbow beside her.

'to your feet, now,' dorian says, singsong, and pushes a lyrium potion into her hands. it's with a great reluctance that she downs it and rejoins the fray.

-

dinner finished, the campfire starts to burn low. bull bests dorian at another game of chess, varric scribbles into his journal more chapters of a future work, and cullen sharpens his sword.

and no matter how long she stares at the cracking fire, it can't burn the images from her head. she pulls her legs to her chest and buries her head against her knees. she has to face it or it won't go away. nightmare will hunt her until she's a husk and yearning for tranquility.

if the anchor will even allow her that.

deep breath. if she could just get back to that silence -

amell jerks her head up as if struck and stares at cullen across the way.

'fall asleep over there, cousin?'

no. no, because she can't sleep. 'no,' she answers, and clears her throat when her voice comes out too rough. even cullen looks up at her now. 'no, i'm... fine. cu - commander, can i borrow you for a moment?'

bull chuckles, 'just a moment?' and he and dorian go back to their game. varric waits and watches until cullen nods stiffly, sheathing his sword on his belt, then the storyteller continues his writing.

cullen follows her just outside camp, not quite in the shadows, but the flickering light turn his hair gold. amell wants to run her hands through it again, feel him lean into her touch.

they haven't been this close since that moment in chateau d'onterre.

'you... needed something from me, inquisitor?'

amell blinks. 'yes. i - you can still use some of your templar talents, can't you? alistair could, even though he wasn't... you know.'

cullen shifts from foot to foot. 'i can. why?'

she sighs with relief. 'oh, good. i didn't know... what i was going to do, if you couldn't.'

'inquisitor?'

she can't help her grin. she should have asked him much sooner! 'i want - i need you to smite me.'

'wh-what?' cullen sputters, taking a step back when she moves in closer. 'you... why?'

she frowns. hangs her head. 'because i can't... sleep. i can't close my eyes without seeing that - that demon at adamant and - ' she reaches out and grabs this sleeve. 'i thought that if you cut me off from the fade, i'd be able to sleep... just for a little bit.'

'you haven't been sleeping since adamant?'

amell shakes her head. she feels pitiful. unbecoming of the head of the inquisition. 'it's easier at skyhold. the veil is stronger there, but lately...'

cullen, i'm scared. she bites her lip. she releases his sleeve and takes a step back. 'i'm sorry. i shouldn't have - this was a silly and selfish request. i'll go... have dorian make me a potion or something.'

that's what she should have done first. dreamless sleep. the nightmare can't hunt her if she doesn't dream at all. her mind whirs with what ifs just from that. what if she dreams and can't wake herself up? what if she can't fight it off alone and she gets possessed and she hurts her friends -

a warm hand rests between her shoulder blades. 'come on.'

'what?'

he steers her back to camp. 'i'll watch over you.'

this grin is twisted, the shadows cast by the fire sharp and unflattering. 'like old times?'

she feels his sigh through the hand still on her back.

'oh? not taking first watch tonight then, annie?' dorian chuckles when she ducks into her tent, cullen in tow. he ties the flaps together and it only barely keeps out the echo of dorian's laughter.

and then she's in her tent, alone, with cullen. it shouldn't be so strange. he's shared it with her before, knows where she keeps her books and supplies and easily navigates it in the dark. he unclasps the belt holding his sword and lays it next to him as he sits next to her bedroll.

this was, perhaps, a bad idea. the tent always felt too big for just herself, but with the two of them here, now, it feels much too small. and maybe she's the only one that feels that way because cullen looks up at her expectantly and says, 'aren't you tired?'

yes. maker, yes. this cullen could be a demon and she wouldn't care. amell doffs her cloak and her boots and crawls into her bedroll, too tired and weary to even think of seducing him in this moment no matter how much dorian jeers just outside.

on her back, she stares up at the stars gleaming through the canopy. she's safe. she is safe. in seconds, her eyelids grow heavy, and then she is gone.

-

'it's okay,' cullen tells her, one hand on her shoulder, and the other clasped in hers. 'it's okay,' he says, again and again, soft and softer until her tears stop.

'how long?' she croaks.

the fire outside has burned down to embers, and cullen is more shadow than light. 'about an hour.'

'i don't know how long i can keep this up,' she admits. 'i think this is worse than the first time i used blood magic. or after redcliffe.' that future haunted her for days, but at least she could sleep.

'here,' he says and lays her back down. and then he surprises her by kicking off his boots and climbing into the bedroll next to her. 'come here.'

hesitantly she shifts closer and pillows her head on his bicep. she places a hand on his chest and is rewarded when he exhales and rests a hand on her hip. a shiver runs up her spine that has nothing to do with the cold. though his breathing is even, she can feel his heart beating fast under her fingertips.

'cullen - '

'why do you think the demon is hunting you?'

she flinches. 'i don't know. because we got away, maybe. it was working for corypheus, so.'

cullen shifts. 'i used to have nightmares when i was a child.' his voice rumbles in her ear. the hand on her hip moves up to card through her hair. 'dragons. darkspawn. monsters in the middle of the night come to take my parents and siblings away. i don't think i slept right for a week. i would stand at the door to our bedrooms with a stick i had found, ready to fight off anything that came through.

'mia noticed something wasn't right when i smashed my thumb in with a hammer.' he winces at the memory. 'when i told her, she introduced me to her... erm, magic bear.'

amell laughs. 'magic bear?'

'she said if i told it about my nightmares and my fears before bed, it would keep our family safe from them.'

'that sounds nice. i wish i had that bear.'

'mm. it helped, also, after... after the tower fell, and you and elissa saved us. i didn't have the bear, obviously, but i had my sword. greagoir didn't want us to be unarmed,' he explains. 'so i would... admit what i was scared of, more demons or - blood mages.' amell hums low, understanding. 'and once i knew what scared me, i knew i could fight it.'

'i see.'

'what does the demon want from you?'

'fear.' she takes a deep breath. 'in the fade there were tombstones, for each of us that fell through. the epitaphs were our worst fears. they weren't something silly like spiders or ghosts or darkspawn. they were very personal.'

madness. temptation. became his parents.

'abandonment was mine,' she answers to a question unasked. she could feel his inhale just before. her voice is flat as she continues, 'i was afraid that if everyone found out what i was, you would all leave.

'and now that that's come to pass, it wants something else.'

'i - '

'it's fine.' still, she clenches her fist in his shirt. 'i'm scared that i'll fall, and i won't be able to resist it. i'm scared that i'll hurt you.'

his hand continues combing through her hair. her eyes grow heavy again. 'take me into your dream.'

'i'm sorry?'

'as you did with alistair and elissa. bring me with you.'

she's too tired to fight him, and the thought of having him there with her is as comforting as being in his arms again. she'll bring that warmth with her, wear it as armor, and shield herself from nightmare forever.

-

'is this - ?'

cullen walks the barren landscape with his sword drawn. amell stands very, very still.

'this is where we fought the nightmare.' down the path behind her are the tombstones. 'and there is where we lost loghain.'

the steep rock that led them toward the exiting rift is just as they last saw it, with the large gap that separated them. if she thinks too hard she can see the blood dripping on the fade stones. if she listens she can hear the screams. so she doesn't.

YOU HAVE COME.

nightmare's voice is a bellowing roar in her ears that threatens to burst her beating heart.

cullen steps in front of her. 'there is nothing here for you, demon.'

OH? nightmare inches closer. THE LYRIUM WILL STRIP YOU DOWN TO YOUR BONES, UNTIL YOU ARE A PALE SHADOW OF WHAT YOU ONCE WERE. YOU WILL FORGET HER.

YOU HAVE ALREADY DONE IT ONCE, HAVE YOU NOT?

cullen's next exhale is unsteady. amell shifts one foot back.

RUNNING AGAIN. ALWAYS RUNNING.

nightmare lifts itself to its full height, high above them.

NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO, I WILL FIND YOU. I WILL WALK YOUR BROKEN BODY TO CORYPHEUS.

amell pushes cullen behind her and thrusts the anchor forward. 'come and catch me then.'

nightmare lunges -

only to be met with a solid, stone wall. nightmare's roars fade into the distance, but the baubles on a bookshelf against the wall don't so much as rattle.

'inquisitor?' amell turns around to see cullen taking in the room. 'why here?'

it's his office. sunlight streams in through the slats and the silly hole in the ceiling he refuses to let the carpenters fix. the desk that held together remarkably well is clear of its usual debris. the room smells like sword polish and parchment and a soothing cold wind.

'i just thought of someplace safe.'

cullen runs a hand along the edge of the desk. 'hm.'

she swallows, leaning against the bookshelf. you will forget her. 'i'm sorry. for bringing you there.'

he shakes his head and lifts his gaze to hers. 'you stood up to it.'

'i was particularly motivated this time.'

cullen crosses the distance between them, one hand on the bookshelf beside her, the other at his side. more enough room for her to move away despite him hovering over her. his brow furrows. 'it was right, you know.' she looks into his eyes, haunted but clear.

'you would think so,' she says. 'it's your fear. that doesn't make it right or true.' she brings her hands to the sides of his face, smooths out his frown with her thumbs. 'you're more than the lyrium. you knew it would be a difficult road, but you chose to walk it anyway.

and no matter what we are to each other, whether you remember me or not, i will walk it with you.'

his jaw clenches under her hands, and that, too, she loosens with a touch. he moves closer to her. her fingers brush against his lips. he dips his head closer to hers.

'cullen...'

a knock on the door. she feels his incredulous laugh breeze across her cheeks. forehead against her shoulder, he mutters, 'even here?'

'go ahead,' amell says after a moment and a second rap at the door. the presence is familiar enough that she already knows who stands at the other end.

solas takes one step through the door before freezing. 'ah. apologies, inquisitor. i did not mean to intrude on your dream.'

cullen pulls away and takes his warmth with him, to thumb through the volumes on the bookshelf.

'this isn't a... dream, solas.' it feels as if it should be. three weeks ago she and cullen were barely speaking, and now they're finding their footing once more. 'the commander is really here.'

'you brought him into your dream.'

'nightmare...'

'i see.' solas nods in understanding. dying alone. 'i heard something, but i thought... nevermind.' maybe she isn't the only one nightmare has been hounding. 'it is almost dawn. enjoy the remainder of your rest, inquisitor. commander.'

cullen lifts a hand in farewell, a book in hand.

'solas.' he stops in the doorway. there is no bridge to his rotunda on the other side, just a golden void. 'have you and the others returned to skyhold?'

'we arrived last night, yes.'

'okay. could we talk when we return, then?'

solas bows his head. 'if that is what you wish, inquisitor. good night.'

the light engulfs him, and she no longer feels him within their pocket of the fade. well. saves them from having to send a report on their progress back to skyhold.

amell sighs a little too heavily.

'what's wrong?'

'solas has been upset with me as well. he thinks i'm too sympathetic to the wardens.' which, obviously. but she knows nathaniel will take care of the wardens left at adamant. 'anyway, what have you got there?' she gestures to the book in his hand.

he hands it over. on the cover, in swirling gold filigree is the title the knight and the magic bear. she turns the first page to see cullen's story, illustrated like a children's book.

she smiles.

'perhaps that's why you felt safe.'

she returns the book to the shelf to find every one the same, lined up together like talismans.

he takes her hand.

'we should wake up soon,' he says.

'you don't trust the others will let us sleep in?'

he makes a face. 'no.'

amell laughs on a sigh. 'such faith. come on then,' she says and leads him up to his loft.

there, they lay in his bed as they laid on her bedroll, but she is much more keen to press herself close. to his chest and his fluttering heart, she mumbles, 'thank you. for keeping me safe.'

'annwn - '

-

bright light blinds them as varric pulls back the flaps of her tent, though cullen is quick to pull the blanket back over their heads. 'breakfast is ready! better wake up before tiny eats it all.'

'very risky, varric. what if they were in a... compromising position?'

varric scoffs. 'please. you didn't have to share a tent with him for this little adventure, dorian, but i did. curly hasn't slept a wink since we left skyhold. i think i could recite the chant by heart, now.'

amell waves a hand and the tent flaps close. cullen hums in appreciation, and she decides at least ten more minutes of rest will be worth missing breakfast.

[tooti-fruiti]

FOLLOW THE RULES [CHAPTER TWO]

Ralsei and Lancer

"Sure." You said.

Susie groaned, but decided to stay because she knew she wouldn't get anywhere unless the hooded guy in front of you two gave her directions.

"Very well then.."

"Once upon a time, a legend was whispered among shadows.

It was a legend of hopes

Of dreams

It was a legend of light

And of dark.

This is the legend of Delta Rune.

For millenia, light and dark have lived in balance.

Bringing peace to the world.

But if this harmony were to shatter...

A terrible calamity would occur.

The sky will run black with terror

And the land will crack with fear.

Then, her heart pounding, the earth will draw her final breath.

Only then, shining with hope

Shall appear three heroes at the world's edge.

A human, a monster, and a prince of the darkness.

Only they can seal the fountains and banish the angel's heaven.

Only then will balance be restored and the world will be saved from destruction.

Today, the fountain of darkness is a geyser that gives this land it's form.

It stands tall at the center of the kingdom.

But recently, another fountain has appeared on the horizon.

And with it, the balance of light and dark begins to shift."

"(Y/n). Susie." The hooded figure said. "Thank you for listening to my long tale."

"I truly believe you two are the heroes in the legend. That despite whatever enemies you may face, you two have the courage and strength to save the world."

"Please, Delta Warriors, won't you accept your destiny?"

You were about to say something but Susie beat you to it.

"Nah." She said.

"W-What?"

"Listen Dude." Susie said. "I'm not a hero or a warrior or whatever the fuck you think I am. I'm just here for a piece of chalk."

"But Susie...without you the world will-"

"I know, I heard you. Death and destruction and shit. I don't really care. I'm getting out of here." She said turning around.

"Susie-" You started to say, but you were cut off when someone riding a tricycle ran into the hooded guy.

"Ho ho ho! The heroes are already running away! And they didn't even know I was here, my dad's gonna make me son of the month!"

"Who the hell are you?" Susie said.

"I'm...the bad guy!" The little spade themed guy asked.

"You CLOWNS want to seal our dark fountain huh?! And save the world from eternal darkness?!"

"Not really." Susie muttered.

"Don't deny it! We both know that going to east towards the fountain is your only way out!"

"East huh?" Susie smiled and she turned her back.

"Where do you think you're going?!" The little spade guy yelled as a box formed around you three.

"If you want to leave, you're going to have to fight me, Lancer, first!"

"Oh yeah?" Susie said, growling. "I'll rip you to pieces."

Suddenly, you held a sword in your hand and Susie had a flaming ax.

Lancer was on the other end with one of his tricycle tires on fire.

In front of you were five orange boxes.

Fight, Act, Item, Spare, and Defend.

Susie had those boxes too.

"Are we in some sort of game?!" Susie asked confused.

"I don't know!" You said.

"Oh well! I know what I'm going to do!" Susie growled, bashing her fist into the fight button.

You had no idea what was happening, so you chose to defend.

You grabbed a shield off the floor and held it in front of you.

Susie attacked Lancer.

Then he responded to the attack and tried to run both over.

This repeated about four more times, before Lancer got hungry and left.

"Are both okay?" The hooded figure asked.

"I guess." Susie said. "Alright, I'm out of here."

Susie then put her ax over her back and walked away.

"She's probably going east." The hooded figure said.

"Oh! Let me introduce myself."

He lowered his hood and smiled at you.

"My name is Ralsei." He said, and he turned out to be a cute little goat monster.

"If you accept your destiny, I will happily accompany you on your journey."

You smiled and shrugged.

"It's my way out right? I'll help."

"Wonderful!" Ralsei said. "I'll show you where to go."

(Hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned for more and have a good day.)

<-Chapter One

Chapter Three->

[ebaeschnbliah]

`This is the lawn of Parth Galen’ ...

... a fair place in the summer days of old. Let us hope that no evil has yet come here.'

They drew up their boats on the green banks, and beside them they made their camp. They set a watch, but had no sight nor sound of their enemies. If Gollum had contrived to follow them, he remained unseen and unheard. Nonetheless as the night wore on Aragorn grew uneasy, tossing often in his sleep and waking. In the small hours he got up and came to Frodo, whose turn it was to watch.

`Why are you waking? ' asked Frodo. `It is not your watch.'

`I do not know,' answered Aragorn; `but a shadow and a threat has been growing in my sleep. It would be well to draw your sword.'

`Why? ' said Frodo. `Are enemies at hand? '

`Let us see what Sting may show,' answered Aragorn.

Frodo then drew the elf-blade from its sheath. To his dismay the edges gleamed dimly in the night. `Orcs! ' he said. `Not very near, and yet too near, it seems.'

`I feared as much,' said Aragorn. `But maybe they are not on this side of the River. The light of Sting is faint, and it may point to no more than spies of Mordor roaming on the slopes of Amon Lhaw. I have never heard before of Orcs upon Amon Hen. Yet who knows what may happen in these evil days, now that Minas Tirith no longer holds secure the passages of Anduin. We must go warily tomorrow.'

The day came like fire and smoke. Low in the East there were black bars of cloud like the fumes of a great burning. The rising sun lit them from beneath with flames of murky red; but soon it climbed above them into a clear sky. The summit of Tol Brandir was tipped with gold. Frodo looked out eastward and gazed at the tall island. Its sides sprang sheer out of the running water. High up above the tall cliffs were steep slopes upon which trees climbed, mounting one head above another; and above them again were grey faces of inaccessible rock, crowned by a great spire of stone. Many birds were circling about it, but no sign of other living things could be seen.

When they had eaten, Aragorn called the Company together. `The day has come at last,' he said: 'the day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our Company that has travelled so far in fellowship? Shall we turn west with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor; or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? Whatever we do must be done soon. We cannot long halt here. The enemy is on the eastern shore, we know; but I fear that the Orcs may already be on this side of the water.'

There was a long silence in which no one spoke or moved.

'Well, Frodo,' said Aragorn at last. `I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf, and though I have tried to bear his part, I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate.'

Frodo did not answer at once. Then he spoke slowly. `I know that haste is needed, yet I cannot choose. The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone! '

Aragorn looked at him with kindly pity. `Very well, Frodo son of Drogo,' he said. `You shall have an hour, and you shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call.'

Frodo sat for a moment with his head bowed. Sam, who had been watching his master with great concern, shook his head and muttered: 'Plain as a pikestaff it is, but it's no good Sam Gamgee putting in his spoke just now.' ,

Presently Frodo got up and walked away; and Sam saw that while the others restrained themselves and did not stare at him, the eyes of Boromir followed Frodo intently, until he passed out of sight in the trees at the foot of Amon Hen.

JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Breaking of the Fellowship

[purgetrooper77]

Star Wars: Trails of Red Episode 3: The Doctor

Rated: T

tw: none that I could think of

On the planet Monsolar there was a squad of Bith gunmen hunting down a Bothan prisoner. The Bothan was carrying a blaster he stole from an unknown black market. He turned around only to see five Bith chasing him. He fired behind him only to kill one Bith. The Bith fired back but missed the Bothan. Suddenly a female yellow Nautolan with red eyes jumped out of the bushes and fired at the Bith squad. Three Bith soldiers were killed by the attacking Nautolan. The male Bothan turned around and shot down the last two Bith. The Nautolan approached the Bothan. "For a second I thought I was a goner." Bothan said. "I'm always by your side, Norzan." she replied. Norzan and the female Nautolan are close friends who go on adventures together. Both are running low on food and money. "There will be more of them soon." Norzan said. "Luckily I know a place where food is stored. Follow me." The two aliens went east and found a large sack of food outside the forest. It was near a large boulder covered in moss. Norzan felt something was wrong. "It could be a trap." Norzan said. "You actually think someone will use food to trap us?" she asked. "Gideeva, I am serious." "Okay, let's test it." Gideeva said. Gideeva picked up a nearby rock and threw it at the food. Three IG Assassin droids jumped out of the shadows only to be shot down and killed by Norzan. "Okay, that was a trap." Gideeva said. Gideeva was always a reckless Nautolan. She is very lucky to have Norzan by her side. "This planet is full of dangerous people." Norzan said. "Tell me about it, we can't find good food here." Gideeva complained. "The best place we can go now are the cave systems." "As in, we are going underground on this planet?" "What other choice do we have?" Gideeva looked at the surface of the planet. "Okay, I'll go underground with you." she said. The two close friends ran to find a cave system and hid underground. A Zeta-class Heavy Cargo Shuttle landed on the ground. There was a squad of Alzoc TK Troopers searching for a local criminal. "This is TK-1123, we have entered Monsolar." the leader of the squadron said. Two TK Troopers looked to their right only to see a dead Bith gunman on the ground. "Well, it looks like a criminal did that alright." said the third oldest TK Trooper. "Question is, what kind of criminal?" the fourth oldest TK Trooper asked. A Nosaurian peaked his head out from a tree. The TK Troopers turned on their night vision only to encounter the Nosaurian. "There's one!" the second oldest trooper yelled. The Nosaurian drew out his blaster and shot down two TK Troopers. The lead TK Trooper fired his blaster but the Nosaurian dodged the attack. He climbed down a tree and shot down three more TK Troopers. There were three TK Troopers left. "Get back to the shuttle and alert the Empire!" ordered the lead TK Trooper. TK-1123 was shot in the head by the Nosaurian. The last two TK Troopers ran away only to be shot down and killed by the Nosaurian. The Nosaurian ran away as soon as the entire squad of TK Troopers were killed. Gideeva and Norzan made it to the deep parts of the cave system. The caves are so deep, no one could see the two. Norzan drew out a flashlight so that both he and Gideeva could see a small amount of light in the cave. "What are we going to do now?" Gideeva asked. "Honestly I have no idea. Everyone either wants us captured or dead." "But why, what did we even do?" "The Empire hates Jedi Sympathizers and Separatist lovers." "I thought the Jedi did nothing wrong." Gideeva said. "The Jedi did nothing wrong. They helped fight the Clone War. It was that Sith Lord that clouded the minds of Clone Troopers which led them to kill their own generals." Norzan confirmed. "I understand the Jedi Sympathizer but not the Separatist lovers. I don't love Separatists at all." "The Empire knows you have Separatist relatives." Norzan explained. "Yeah but that doesn't mean I love Separatists, it means I tolerated my relatives political beliefs." Gideeva said. There were loud blaster noises coming from above. "What was that?" she asked. "We are not alone." Norzan said. Norzan gave Gideeva his flashlight and ran to investigate the blaster noise. Norzan jumped forward only to see a male Talpiddan staring at a dead Bith gunman. The Talpiddan turned around and spotted Norzan. Norzan took two steps backwards. "Hello, Bothan." the Talpiddan greeted. "Are you part of a criminal syndicate?" "I was, until my friends ditched me on this backwater planet. I was here to steal food from the rich. Apparently someone has beaten me to it." Norzan sees a medical symbol on the Talpiddan's left shoulder. "Are you a medic?" Norzan asked. "Yes I am, a cardiologist to be more exact. I am Dr. Tel Gikon." "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Norzan. I have a Nautolan friend in the caves. We need your help." Norzan told him. "I do have a ship west of here. Currently it is guarded by Bith gunmen and IG Assassins." "My friend and I will fend them off." Norzan told him. "You sure?" Gikon asked. "I am sure." Norzan assured. Gideeva ran up and met up with Gikon and Norzan. "I heard you were fending off people?" she asked. "Yes, but first introductions. Dr. Gikon this is my friend Gideeva. Gideeva this is Dr. Gikon. He is stranded like us." "We'll get to your ship in time. What kind of ship is it?" Gideeva asked. "It is a modified Nemesis-class gunship. West of here." Gikon answered. "Let's go." Gideeva encouraged. The three aliens readied their blasters and moved west of Monsolar. A large portion of Bith gunmen looked at the three friends as they all fired their blasters. Norzan shot down five Bith as Gikon shot down four. Gideeva shot down three Bith. The lead gunman fired his blaster. Norzan dodged the blaster fire and shot down the leader as Gikon shot down three Bith. Gideeva shot down two Bith gunmen that were near the gunship. Gikon turned to the right and shot down the last four gunmen. They all entered the gunship. Gikon got into the cockpit, activated the gunship, and took off from Monsolar never to return. Inonok, Bezz, Borkal, Edojan, and Mokor were in the Ubdur System. In the Ubdur System there was a small space station that has been around since 32 BBY. The population inside the station was lower than five hundred people. They were all enjoying the new life as life around them is surrounded by walls of chatter. "Ahh, this is the life we wanted." Edojan said. "Indeed, I'm glad we pulled the heist." Mokor said. "What do you all want to do?" Inonok asked. "I know a place where we all could go. There is a beautiful beach planet in the Trilon Sector filled with great food and amazing houses. We can go there, eat food, spend time at the beach, all of that fun stuff." Bezz said. "Sounds like a great idea." Edojan said. "Let's go there now." Mokor said. The space station was attacked by U-Wing bounty hunter ships. The starships arrived unannounced which put the entire station in a state of panic. Inonok got into his armed freighter and took off from the space station. He tailgated and destroyed two bounty hunter ships. Three U-Wings fired at the freighter. The freighter took little damage from the U-Wings. Inonok turned his ship around and destroyed four more bounty hunter ships. The remaining two U-Wings turned around but were all destroyed by Inonok's starship. Inonok made his armed freighter return to the space station. He got out of his freighter to explain everything to his friends. "What happened?" Bezz asked. "Bounty hunters attacked the space station. I assume they attacked because word got out that we stole from the Raaf Mansion." Inonok said. "Then we need to split up." Mokor said. "No, we need to fight off every bounty hunter till their clients can't send them anymore." Bezz said. "Or we could find the person who is sending bounty hunters after us." Borkal suggested. "Exactly what I was thinking." Inonok said. "Where do we go to do that?" Bezz asked. "I might know a place." "Where?" Edojan asked. "Kimanan, it's in the Inner Rim." Inonok answered. "Kimanan, there is nothing there." Mokor said. "I have heard stories about criminal activities involving bounty hunters there. Besides, it is the Inner Rim we're talking about. Nothing screams criminal activity without the Inner Rim." Inonok said. "Well I don't see why we can't go there." Bezz said. "Me too, let's go to Kimanan." Borkal said. The five rich aliens went into the armed freighter and took off from the space station. They jumped to hyperspace to start their next mission in the Inner Rim Territories.

[shizuyotoshisuta333]

!!WARNING!!

Don't read if you are squeamish or don't like extreme gore, violence, and horrific deaths because there's a lot. Also in later chapters there is mention and flashbacks of past abuse.

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A Siren's Sea and Pirates' Fee

ShizuyoToshisuta333

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A siren sees a pirate ship and follows it.

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The sirens in this aren't based on real sirens.

Mine have color changing eyes, elemental crystals and powers, and different forms like humanoid siren and full siren in the water, as well as on land human form and animal form based on the clan you choose.

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This is a reader-insert type story, so I will write the reader-insert parts like so:

(y/n):your name (l/n):last name (e/c):eye color (h/c):hair color (h/l):hair length (b/s):bust size(chest size) (c/s):clothes size (n/l):nail length (n/c):nail color (l/c):lip color (b/t):blood type (f/s):favorite smell (f/t):favorite taste(sweet/salty/sour/etc.) (f/c):favorite color (s/f/c):second favorite color, (s/c):skin color (f/e):favorite element(ice/lightning/air/etc.) (e/p/c):element power color(based on your favorite element, fire=red, ice=light blue, water=dark blue, air=white, lightning=yellow, light=orange, dark=purple, metal=gray, earth=green.) (f/j):favorite jewel (f/a):favorite animal (f/f):favorite flower (f/w):favorite weather (f/o):favorite ornaments/accessories (it can be more than one.) (o/p):ornament place(hair/ankle/neck/etc.)(If you have multiple, just imagine where they all are.) (c/l):clothing length (c/c):clothing colors (c/n): clan name (Snake tongue=Snake, Bear claw=Bear, East pacific=Spider, Dragon scale=Dragon, Tiger teeth=Tiger, Bunny tail=Bunny, Frog spots=Frog, Bird feather=Bird, Horseshoe=Horse, Turtle shell=Turtle, Butterfly wings=Butterfly, also feel free to make your own) (c/a): clan animal(based on clan)(f/d)favorite drink (f/a/d): favorite alcoholic drink

Yes, I know it's a long list. But, I wanted to give as much freedom to the reader as possible, and I know this isn't how sirens are, but this is my version of them.

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Chapter 1: The Red Feather

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After 3 years of freedom, something caught your eye a docked ship a red feather is all that's seen from the tall captain. Curiosity got the better of y/n and they swim closer when under the ship y/n hears a command from two voices one loud and bold the other low and gravely. Overhead the shadow moves and sunlight seeps through the water, you realize that was your cover and quickly swam back under the ship as it departed.

🔆 ~Pov change~ 🔆

"Depart!" I command.

My brother Moon commands the crew to drop the sails and he steers the ship.

I look off to the town as we leave. In the corner of my eye, I think I see something, but when I look there’s nothing there.

"What's ye lookin' at?" Moon notices my stare.

"t's nothing just a fish" I walk towards him.

"Ye get distracted too easily" he replies still controlling the ship.

"Alright, we'r headed to Duran town!" I shout to the crew, "Make due southeast!".

"Aye aye captain!" They return.

🌙~Pov change~🌙

Headed southeast I spot a ship in the distance, a cargo ship half the size of our ship.

"Ship ahead!" I shout alerting Sun and the crew.

Sun runs up the stairs to the steering deck where I am "Aye cargo, Load the cannons!".

"Aye aye!" The crew scurries around loading them as fast as possible.

Sun runs back down to the front of the ship and resets the grapples, when everything is ready and we're close enough he fires the grapples at the ship.

"Hit!" I shout at Sun.

"Aim the first cannon and wait for Moon's signal!" Sun yelled as he punched a button on the grapples.

The grapples started pulling the ship towards us, "take everything!" Sun yelled as he pushed a plank over both ships' rails and boarded the ship.

I hop over the rail onto the main deck, run across it to the tethered ship, and board it.

🔆~Pov change~🔆

Me and Moon board the ship, and the captain unsheathes his sword "Pirates, Stay back!".

"Or you could surrender" I retorted and unsheath my sword, "Never!" The captain yells.

"Moon you and half the crew fight, and the other half take the loot!" I command, "Aye aye Sun!" Moon responds and directs the crew around.

I charged toward the captain as he tries to slash me, and I jump up to dodge his blade to kick him in the nose. He stumbles backward into the captain's quarters and trips backward sitting in his chair, I followed him there as he brought two fingers to his nose then back to look at them.

"Ye broke me nose ye damn robot!" He shouted as he lunges at me with his sword.

I raised my sword to quickly slash vertically and slit his throat, he dropped to his knees blood spilling onto his chest and hands.

"Such foul language, a pity if you only just surrendered" I told him as he slumped over and face-planted lifelessly.

🌙~Pov change~🌙

"Aye aye Sun!" I affirm to Sun, "Sam, Dave, Chris, and Ron you come with me!" I say pointing at them then grab the anchor on the ship and throw it in the water.

Everyone split different ways, I went up to the steering deck where I kicked the driver on the back of his knee, cut his wrists off, and throw him in the water. I peeled one hand off then throw it in the water too and went to get the other hand. When I got it off I noticed that he had a gold ring.

"Ye won't be needing this" I take the ring and throw the hand behind me into the water, "Now that the ships aren't moving this is gonna be ten times easier!".

I go running down the stairs but in my way are three members of the enemy crew running up the stairs. I jump over them, slashing the one at the bottom of the steps across his back then push him overboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something f/c slip back into the water, I into the water only to look back forward as both humans charge me, I move to the side causing them to fumble. They stop as one grabs a gun from his belt and tries to shoot me, I duck and barely dodge the bullet as it flies over me and almost hits my hat.

I somersault towards them causing them to trip and fall backward over the rail into the water. I get up and look at them as one gets grabbed by the shoulders and dragged under the ship by human-like hands with s/f/c webbing in between the fingers, the other human watches in horror as it happens. We sit in silence for a moment as we process, the shock wears off and he tries to swim away right as blood floats to the top of the water the same hand grabs his ankle and drags him under, the water turning redder by the second.

⭐~Pov change~⭐

I was going southeast under the ship when the water started getting choppy, then I heard a commotion up on the ship. People were running around like mice and the captain was shouting so I came up on the side of the ship as a grapple propelled through the air over me, the grapples broke through the wall on the front of the other ship. A plank is placed right above me casting a shadow, someone walks across the plank onto the captured ship. A loud thump and running are heard as another person runs across the plank to the small ship, the captain of the captured ship yells at the pirates and the sound of a sword being grabbed from a belt is heard. The pirates ask him to surrender, "Never!" He shouts as one of the pirate captains draws his sword. The other captain is told to make teams to fight and take the loot, he does as he's told and calls the crew over. The crew runs up the ship and over the plank onto the ship with the captains, the captain with the blue feather calls a few names then they split up.

I hear a group run downstairs into the storage room, then a tiny group branches away from the rest, they run into the crew's quarters and there are a bunch of people moving around, then silence nothing moving in the underdeck. A little bit of shuffling creaks through the wood as the group leaves back into the storage room, a sickening thump echoes through the wood, and a scream of pain rips through the air. The water ripples as the person submerges, blood from his wrists seeps into the water catching my nose and reminding me how hungry I am. My instincts to feed hit me like a hammer driving me crazy, my features shift into my (f/c) scales and rise to the surface of my skin. My teeth sharpen then my pupils close into a slit like a snake and one of my (e/c) eyes changes to a (e/p/c), my nose smooths over and only the two nostril holes are left on the middle of my scaly face. I swim under the ship and toward the back where the person with no hands is and a hand hits the water right as I get there, I grab it and start ripping the flesh off of the bone with my teeth as the owner watches me savagely eat his hand. Another hits me in the back of the head right as I finish eating the first one, I toss the bones into the water and grab the floating hand that hit me, and start ripping it apart.

I dispose of the rest of the bones behind me and make eye contact with the man in the water as he panics and gets saltwater in his wrists causing him to wince in pain, I swim closer to him and he tries to swim away, he gets a few feet from the ship when I catch up with him then bite his arm and he yells as I pull him under the water as he gurgled and sucked in water with his last breath. Unable to do anything other than kick and squirm, I get tired of his panic attack so I bite his neck and rip out his throat causing the water to go red. I let his meatless bones sink into the depths of the water because I smell more blood as one of the captains slashes an enemy crew member's back, the smell of blood wafts through the air as I break the surface of the water. I swim forwards and look over the side of the ship right as someone is thrown over the rail of the ship and into the water, I dive under the water and swim over to him and before he can scream I sink my s/f/c claws into his throat to yank out his voice box and toss it in my large mouth to dispose of it and drag his dying body in the water under the ship to eat him. Another meatless skeleton sinks to the bottom of the ocean as I hear a gunshot and go swimming out from under the ship, two bodies hit the water overhead before I can get from under the ship and I swim up to one then grab his shoulder and drag him back under the ship and tear him apart. I go back for the other one as the bones drift down into the darkness of the deep, not wanting to waste time I grab his ankle to bring him down to me and eat him right there unknowing of the scarlet eyes watching me.

🔆~Pov change~🔆

After finishing off the captain I raid his quarters taking gold and other valuables, I stumble upon a key and look for info about it on the internet built in my head only to come up empty which is a first. Stumped and looking for answers I kick the corpse of the captain out of the way and sit in the chair, I lay my head back thinking, and while thinking I put my arms on the armrests.

"Tis a beaut', I'm finna keep it" I say while my hands feel the gold designs, I stand up and wander to the table seeing a red circle on a map circling a random place in the middle of the ocean. My brain overworking and hard staring at the map trying to figure out why it was circled there wasn't helping. A loud thump snaps me to reality as I go to the door and peek out to see what's going on as a bullet hits the side of the door frame almost hitting my sun ray, I lean forward to look at the bullet hole then look forwards at Moon rolling into two people like it was Bonnie Bowl™. Moon stood up and looked over the rail at the water and just stood there silent for a while so I walked out into the open to walk over to him, I look over his shoulder trying to see what he was looking at. I see blood in the water, nothing too strange but the strange thing is it's just blood. No bodies live or dead, just red blood-stained water or so I thought. Below the water I see something swimming around and eating something, assuming that it is a shark I look to the left at my brother Moon.

"Why ye staring at a shark, we've already got the loot, let's go" I put my hand on his shoulder, and he looked up with a look I've never seen before in the 13 years that we've been… conscious.

"That were no shark brother, I've never seen that creature before" He said with mischief in his voice.

"Now that look I've seen before, ye gonna catch it aren't ya" I asked with an amused smile, "It has f/c scaly skin that covered t's human-shaped hands and s/f/c webbing in-between the fingers matching s/f/c claws, that's all I know so yeah I'm gonna catch it and study it! Moon spoke enthusiastically.

He went to jump the rail but I grabbed his shoulder and dragged him back onto the main deck, "What are yer doing?" That's all I could say before it started swimming to the surface to emerge from the water. Me and Moon took a step back as it got closer to the top of the water, we braced ourselves and unsheeted our swords once more standing our ground as it slowly started to peek its head from under the water.

[bunchofrandomfandomsandbands]

The Missing Robe

Summary: Secondo's robe goes missing before the Blood Moon Warnings: None Pairing: None

Main Masterlist

The day before the Blood Moon ritual, Secondo stands in his chamber, arms crossed, with his fingers drumming against his bicep as he stares into the wardrobe. His Papal robe—the ceremonial black velvet one with intricate crimson detailing, which he needs for tomorrow’s ritual—is missing. His pet python, Nex, coils around his shoulders, flicking her tongue in and out as if sensing his frustration. Secondo clenches his jaw, every nerve alight with irritation. A knock at the door breaks his reverie and in strides Primo, his eldest brother, with his usual quiet poise.

“Lost something, fratellino?” Primo inquires, arching a brow as he notices the gaping emptiness in the wardrobe.

“Someone stole it, I know it. Only one of those ghouls would dare to pull something like this.” Secondo narrows his eyes, annoyance dripping from his tone.

“It’s unusual for them to target your ceremonial robe. The Blood Moon ritual is significant, even for them.” Primo tilts his head thoughtfully.

“Which is why they’re doing it,” Secondo grumbles. “They know it’ll irritate me to no end.”

As they speak, the door opens again, and Terzo, with his characteristic smirk, strolls in. “What’s this I hear about your robe? Lost in the abyss, is it?”

“More likely in the hands of one of Copia's ghouls,” Secondo replies, his voice hardening. “I’ve heard whispers that it’s Sodo.”

“Ah, Sodo. He’s got quite the spirit, that one. I can see him doing it for the thrill." Terzo’s eyes light up with mischief.

“Yes, well, he’s going to regret it when I find him,” Secondo mutters, glancing at Nex, who tightens her coils around his shoulders.

“What’s the plan, then? You know Sodo’s quick. And he loves a good chase.” Primo sighs, running a hand over his bald head.

“If he wants a chase, he’ll get one.” Secondo huffs. He leaves his quarters with a determined stride, his footsteps echoing down the stone corridors. His brothers follow at a distance, exchanging amused glances. Secondo catches snippets of conversation from passing Siblings of Sin, each murmuring about the ghoul caught sneaking through the halls, Papal robes bundled in his arms. It confirms what he already suspects: Sodo has taken his robe and, by the sounds of it, is reveling in the chaos he’s causing. Secondo’s first stop is the main hall, where he expects to catch a trace of his ghoul thief. Instead, he finds Sister Imperator standing by one of the grand candelabras, her stern gaze meeting his.

“Secondo,” she begins, her voice low, “I hear you’re missing a robe.”

“Yes, Sister,” he replies with forced calm, masking his irritation.

“Sodo was seen heading toward the East Wing,” she says, the faintest hint of a smirk curling on her lips. “Perhaps you might find him there—if he hasn’t already slipped away.”

“Grazie,” he replies, nodding sharply. “If you see him, send him my way. He’ll regret this stunt.”

“Perhaps he just wants your attention,” she says, her eyes gleaming. “Or perhaps he’s making a statement.” Secondo rolls his eyes and continues on his path. He can feel the weight of Nex around his neck, a steady reminder of his patience—though he’s not sure how long it will last. He stalks through the East Wing, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The Ministry is quiet here, except for the occasional candlelight flicker against the stone walls. And then he hears it—a faint rustling, like fabric brushing against the floor, followed by a hushed laugh. He rounds a corner just in time to see a figure dash down the hall.

“Sodo!” he shouts, his voice carrying through the corridors. The figure—short, quick, and unmistakably the ghoul in question—glances back with a mischievous grin, Secondo’s robe trailing from his arms like a dark, flowing shadow.

“You want this?” Sodo taunts, holding up the robe before bolting down the corridor.

“You little devil, come back here!” Secondo’s eyes flash with rage, and he breaks into a sprint. The chase winds through the Ministry, past startled Siblings of Sin and bewildered ghouls who quickly sidestep Secondo’s wrathful pursuit. Sodo ducks into rooms, pivots down staircases, and at one point even leaps over a pile of books scattered by an unsuspecting archivist. Secondo is hot on his heels, fueled by fury and adrenaline. Around another corner, he nearly crashes into Copia, who stands with his arms folded, clearly trying to suppress a smile.

“Ah, Papa Secondo,” Copia greets him, barely containing his laughter. “Out for some exercise?”

“Your ghoul stole my robe!” Secondo barks, breathing heavily.

“Ah, but he is his own… independent creature. I simply inspire, Secondo. What they do with that inspiration is out of my hands.” Copia raises his hands in mock innocence.

“Tell that to Sodo once I catch him,” Secondo snaps, striding past Copia. Copia’s laughter echoes after him as he resumes the chase, his eyes darting from side to side for any sign of the ghoul. As he rounds another corner, he spots Primo leaning against the wall, watching the pursuit with a bemused expression.

“He’s quick, that one,” Primo remarks. “Perhaps you should offer him a role in the ritual—if he returns the robe.” Secondo gives Primo a withering look before continuing. Finally, after an endless sprint, he corners Sodo in the ritual chamber, its high stone walls casting long shadows in the dim light. Sodo holds the robe aloft, grinning defiantly, the flickering candles casting strange shapes on his face.

“I almost thought you’d never catch up, Papa,” Sodo teases, barely out of breath.

“I am done with these games. Hand it over, now.” Secondo snarls.

“I just wanted to ensure you’d be… ready for tomorrow. All eyes on you, after all.” Sodo hesitates, looking down at the robe, then back at Secondo with a grin.

“Enough of your nonsense. Give it here.” Secondo steps forward, his gloved hand outstretched. At last, Sodo hands over the robe, looking almost proud as he does. Secondo takes it, inspecting it carefully to ensure it’s unharmed. Satisfied, he glares at the ghoul one last time.

“Try a stunt like this again, and you’ll regret it.”

“Until next time, Papa.” Sodo merely shrugs. As Secondo storms off, Nex still coiled around him and the robe securely in his grasp, he can’t help but feel a grudging respect for the ghoul’s audacity.

[fatherhoodstory]

last summer

It’s well past midnight but the moon is almost full and there are long shadows behind things. The storms came heavy from the south as the sun went down and the pavement still shines in the dead glow of streetlights and moonlight, the air cleansed and cool for late August. East and south to the sea a heat wave bakes the landscape, killing livestock as they follow the patches of shifting shade. The ice is melting, the seas warm, entire forests take to flame like matchsticks and fill this valley, and our lungs, with the ashy remnants of the dead.

I stand among the sunflowers we planted in the spring, hundreds of them bathed in moonlight, heads slightly bowed, as if sleeping, waiting for the world to turn back towards the light. The soil beneath me is dark and rich, the smell taking me to quieter places. There is a frat party at the end of the block, drunken children walk by yelling and laughing, their conversations dark and stupid. Most stare down, necks and shoulders slumped into the dull glow of a phone, oblivious to the sunflowers, me, or the stars above them. A few of them look in my direction as I stand swaying gently with the sunflowers, the leaves and heads as big as basketballs. They say nothing and hurry along, not sure of what they saw but not looking again. I stand out here because you are sleeping and the noise of this place woke me. There are cars too, speeding up and down the street, screeching their tires amid the screams from the open windows. It sounds like the end of the world or the madness and chaos that might take place then and I could not sleep and now stand vigil in the night. I did this when you were younger, just a baby, but there were only coyotes then, yipping wildly at the moon, or bears, wolves, or a lone lion passing through in the shadows, and always the silhouette of mountains against the brightly speckled dark. The fire is here too, the coals grey and cold in the night. I can see the stain of Bison blood where I let it run out onto the cracked concrete as I peeled the skin back to reveal the skull. It found its way back to the soil here, an offering, to the memory of the place where we make our stand. This is the Valley of the Flower, and before John Bozeman or Nathaniel P. Langford ever thought about exploiting it, the People lived and hunted here; the Blackfeet, the Nez Perce, Lakota, Crow, and the Shoshone. I stand there with the Bison blood and flowers, looking out at the rivers below and the peaks beyond, what they call Yellowstone now, the Tobacco Roots, the Bridgers. There is no concrete, no cars, no drunk kids or people at all. It is quiet save the wind and distant thunder from the storm that has already moved on into another world. You sleep still and I can see your face, same as it ever was, and I hope that you can see this place in your dreams, the way it was and might be again someday, when the Buffalo return. In the morning it will be slightly colder, another winter waiting patiently for its time just over those mountains to the north. Time and memory fade now, deeper into the dark. Like space above, endless, unfathomably cold and black. Is there judgement after all this, redemption, or do we simple play out our lives below the void of this silent expanse? After a while I can rest and lay down again. It is almost 3 and I have been standing out here for hours. The drunks and cars and intensity of things grows as quiet as it ever does here. The train blows it's horn again and again for they never stop, the coal they dig and carry must feed the fires that burn the world.

In the morning I will be tired and you will be rested. You will never know that I stood watch long after you were asleep, after I fell asleep beside you and wake and stand in the night. As long as I am able I will stand vigil and protect you, even if it is only from the dark and cold that surrounds us.

[7r0773r]

Sidetracks by Bei Dao, translated by Jeffrey Yang

V.

the eyes of the daughters and sons of the river are shining wilderness dazzling sunlight polishes the surface of the lake remembrances and bullets share this century mail trucks tumble along into the hour of lamplight prisoners dance in concentric circles of moonlight anxious stones pile up into mountains assault troops storm through the gates of the city's memories

tightening the toy's rusted mechanism licking the wounds of first love sprinkle a little salt let the two crickets fight in the innermost heart fruit pit spit out the secret of birth erase the comet tail on the blackboard the eyes of a cat chase after the festival of flowing water I ride the wooden horse of a carousel lost in thought

windmills churn thick clouds in the sky more people join the refugees' routes their languages create countless colors arise from the masks in the museum of humankind cooking smoke blends the hues of the blue twilight a priest prays in the shadow of a candle flame God lashes the city with lightning

O wanderer of the worn world folded within time along the horizon forest trees breathe thoughts dropped into a mailbox in an unfamiliar town the shadow of death takes flight on the road a perfect plate handcrafted artistry breaks free at last from the essence of things

waking up in the garret of the small hotel curtains flutter clear skies turn to clouds in the oil painting of the harbor no sails below the castle the din of the world surrounded by light and flags on the back of a picture postcard Chinese characters are the first informant

northward leads to a solitary pass how long is the tape reel of the deep night measuring the variable weather maps lovers climb through the balcony window on the table the fruit is ripening joining the ranks of insomniacs— winter flashes a smile

let the hand crutch of logic bloom no detour around the season of wheat don't bring along the baggage of a disquiet heart more deranged than a paperweight riding the waves history like the confessions of a suffering patient paces of light cross through the forest to a place more distant than thought

in a dream berries are screaming bidding farewell to the end of homesickness is morning finding the truth of the keyhole

***

VIII.

From 497 BCE to 484 BCE Confucius led his disciples on a fourteen-year journey through various states. In 493 BCE, separated from his disciples, he seated himself alone outside the east city gate of Zheng and stared into space.

your years near sixty setting sun white hair makes a brush tip shadow crooked as a flawed brushstroke points to the homeland east those children running against the backlight turn into pictographs and one by one practice the intonations dawn sets flight a flock of pigeons maps aren't for commemorating wars you turn to gaze at the cooking smoke and the well

days of wind chasing clouds the road tows awake the open sky on the mountains-and-rivers chessboard you play with the king inside the heart carefully trace the fortune in a palm step by step explore the path defeat always at your own hands disciples have dispersed dyeing twilight atop a flag post you are an audience of one

at fifteen devote myself to learning follow the transmission of the rites up the stone steps you rap the drums strike the chimes drink farewell wine at thirty steadfast at forty free of doubts sit and discuss the dao survey the stars at fifty perceive the will of heaven through the Changes of Zhou set foot in court shuttle forth in brocade clothes to the imperial baldachin in the vast palace hall emptiness you raise cups to summon the wind from eight directions

at sixty ears open and willing during the twilight of your life you hear dawn light whispering conspiracy accompanying the aristocracy of the age the palace sinks with the golden lamps you look back at the rolling mountains wholly absorbed with the tuning of the tones for three months not knowing the taste of meat history books send assassins on your trail to replace you with multiple shadows

at seventy do as my heart desires without exceeding the pattern begin with a single step and still change course the temple tolls the bell for you push back the four bare walls Apricot Altar is the nominal heart emperors bypass the Yellow River while supreme Mount Tai is humorless just as someone once described that stray dog mourning his lost home you speak well stop for a rest before rushing on the road outside the city through how many dynasties

***

XXIII.

peel the onions pepper crushed with reality place the turkey in the oven time set temperature November 24, 1994 Thanksgiving Day depart from San Francisco cross the prime meridian Bejing Capital Airport I line up behind the years little window of immigration the moon dons a military cap homesickness—electric plug connects to a power source and the internet locks my name my secret garden confiscated seeds of poetry

the covert guests finally arrive force me to utter my other name it is I a chain of enraged ancestors and the mountains refuse to answer any questions video recorder and tape recorder aimed at me written confession a starving blank sheet of paper the curtain of night opens my one-act play I wash chopsticks dishes behind the wood plank wall is the lawn the sun like a prisoner awaiting a death sentence

Colonel Zhang border control rusted smile gears grind for him to climb through a lifetime and from the corner of his mouth a flash of humanity I'm the lead in the play barebulb circling round and round in the whirlpool of night I sleepwalk— may the hour of existence spit out silk a self-spun cocoon more reliable than the universe my name leads to another name stage revolves I chase after me

soliloguy: a jailbreak in Chinese characters figures cast onto the heavenly canopy layer after layer I am silently reading my heartbeat at the boundary of semantic hostility local accent pursues an outsider prostrate on the table turbine engine bearing my half-asleep half-awake flight cockroaches underground intelligence agents follow the corners of the wall to pass on information from their superiors

dawn roar take off from the runway in accord with the standard breakfast of the armed police— congee steamed buns pickled vegetables boiled eggs two invisible men take turns watching me one is a lover of poetry a line of verse and the path of an official leading to the same destination 9:05 in the morning Beijing time the king and the horse formally declaim— I will be immediately deported from China

a large bus speeds onto the tarmac armed police step out of the vehicle clear the way for me in a black leather jacket to fight for the defeated accompanied by Colonel Zhang toward the airplane door photographed from a high angle in the waiting area tomorrow a blank space shadow retreats horizon rehearses the winter overture take a seat in the cabin Colonel Zhang gives me a firm handshake liquid mercury streams down the porthole window

***

XXVI.

at the morgue Laughlin identifies Dylan Thomas's corpse a semiliterate young girl confirms it— "he wrote poems" mad Dylan a flock of pigeons sets the church spinning

by the sea's side hear the dark-vowelled birds

gold sand fills the hourglass— a time of terror constantly shifting waves of stocks and shares catch up with the shipwrecked sliver of moon no one signs graffiti or petroglyphs keep climbing from the artist's life to freefall Manhattan honking band funeral march for the Hudson River

l open an umbrella to survive the backward descent

someone with a hangover blows open a morning glory silent film in slow-motion walking in the opposite direction of history runs aground on the precipice of death books rise into towers crossing through the tunnel of language there's no exit

Eliot my birthyear brother different cradles unfamiliar ocean we meet by chance on Turtle Island the wild winds in his books let me drift and moor in the four directions shadows slant chasing after the noonday of myths

catch the last stop before the final parting

riding the noon train out to Long Island open the New York Times upside down the world obscured by another type of language I dream about the lions at the Beijing Zoo the first day of class English the executioner's ax so bitingly cold Chinese somehow still in the brain

at Stony Brook meet C. N. Yang one-on-one tutorials the blind man leading the bright-eyed poetry manufacturing at the end of the assembly line— bedroom mirror crack open the language vault walk the dog but don't forget to bring yourself along

days flap away symposium for Chinese writers in exile Eliot moderates Octavio and Marie-José Paz in the audience we eat dinner together candle flames three-language carousel Tiananmen Cold War American politics and literature concerning Neruda's odes to Stalin Paz shakes his head— "transgressed political and ethical principles"

I pursue someone, he tumbles, gets back up again, sees me and says, No one

China Independent Film Festival opening ceremony saxophone dives into the night uncovers a stream using words to fish reel in the comet beyond imagination the audience enters a space larger than light heavy snowfall weight of nothingness skip stones on the reflecting pool at Lincoln Center and dignity more important than a failed cause

a clenched fist suddenly sets metaphor free

after the explosion two women survivors stagger out of the movie screen naked toward an actress neighbor they borrow clothes go into hiding the times and the undercurrent—Weathermen forever young they are the wind describe the shape of the wind

you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows

[hymnoire]

Gaya's laughter is always loud at Zee's words, the mocking type of loud laughter, yet light and melodious. Is the black swan mocking her companion? Oh, she loves to do so, even though it is affectionate in a way. Kang Gaya likes you when she picks up on your little quirks and flaws. "The suspect is surrounded by his supporters and benefactors, as expected. We need to be subtle. A direct confrontation could tip him off and make him run. I will be good." Her last words are spoken as she goes to her mission, following the plan they have elaborated in their late-night reunions. Lee Kwangsun is a mole, a defenseless scientist who has been smart in his ways yet, like his three other defeated allies, shouldn't be so hard to take down. For a soldier duo such as Zee and Gaya, it must be easy. The grand ballroom they stand in is a symphony of opulence: crystal chandeliers projecting a warm glow over the guests, their laughter and chatter mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet. Gaya navigates through the crowd, her black dress shimmering like liquid midnight under the lights. The heiress spots Lee Kwangsun across the room, surrounded by a cluster of admirers. His laughter is forced; the heiress has a particular aversion towards this type of traitor. It isn't so difficult for the heiress to enter the circle—their paths have crossed a few times since the House of Miséricorde and REAL united. Dr. Lee, however, was unaware Gaya had been tasked to suppress men like him. With a charming smile, Gaya approaches him, her movements fluid and confident. "Mr. Lee," she purrs, with a slight head bow in respect. Lee's eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly, bowing his head in the same way. "Miss Kang." They engage in light conversation. Gaya's staged charm and wit effortlessly draw Lee's attention away from his entourage. Slowly, she walks by his side and maneuvers him towards a quieter part of the room, away from prying eyes and ears. She catches Zee's gaze across the room, giving a subtle nod. In a secluded alcove, Gaya leans in, her voice low. "Mr. Lee, there are some delicate matters we need to discuss. Matters that require privacy." Lee hesitates but eventually nods, following her through a side door into a dimly lit corridor. Gaya taps her earpiece lightly. "East wing corridor." The conversation should start easily, pretending there is a case from the organization they must discuss. Through the said discussion, the heiress knows exactly how to trick him and drag a conclusion from his answers. However, the discussion couldn't even start when suddenly, Lee's demeanor shifts. "You think I didn't see this coming?" he sneers. Before Gaya can react, a hulking henchman emerges from the shadows, throwing himself at her, a man she's never seen before.

"FUCK." she exclaims in rage. Gaya moves with lightning speed, blocking the first punch with her forearm. The henchman's eye twitches; it is unreal for such a petite body as hers to even stand against someone like him. That's right, swans do not feel pain and this swan knows how to fight. She delivers a swift kick to the bodyguard's ribs. The impact echoes through the corridor, but she barely feels it. The bodyguard recovers quickly, swinging at her again. The black swan ducks, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back, her movements precise and deadly. The bodyguard grunts in pain, but Gaya is relentless. The man manages to twist his way out, however, slamming against the wall, his elbow going for her neck. He reaches for his gun, but Gaya is faster. She retrieves her Glock from her garter, the cold metal against the henchman's forehead. Bang, he collapses. Gaya breathes heavily, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She taps her earpiece again. "Zee, Kwangsun's on the run. He's going west. Get him." Without waiting for a response, she takes off down the corridor, her heels echoing against the marble floors as she runs. She runs fast through the labyrinthine halls, determined to catch up with Kwangsun. The mission is far from over, and failure is not an option.

[toasterdrake]

Gildokkar

Astrid Hofferson x GN!Reader

DISCLAIMER: I am by no means a linguist. I couldn't find an answer of the necessary phrase, so I took two Old Norse words from a site that seemed more reliable than google translate, and stuck them together in my best guestimate of how an Old Norse compound word might be created. I'm sorry if I got it tragically wrong - correct me if you know what it should be!

Word count: 1.6k

request for @acoupleofbravedorks

"Where are we going?" You ask for the fifth time.

Astrid rolls her eyes. "You'll find out soon," she repeats for the fifth time, exasperated but still jovial. 

It's rare to see her so happy these days, what with the tension surrounding Viggo's disappearance. Whatever she has planned, she's in high spirits so it's something to look forward to. Thor knows you've grown sick of Hiccup's constant reconnaissance missions and Snotlout's neverending rants and Fishlegs' well-meaning meditation sessions.

Beneath you, your dragon dips into a dive, gliding down to the lush island below. They slip into a narrow ravine, following Stormfly's lead as she navigates the stray foliage and jutting rocks with an unexpected familiarity. (Then again, it would be worrying if Astrid didn't know something inside and out before letting down her guard.)

Finally you emerge onto a grassy clearing, dismounting once your dragon lands so they can run off to roll in a patch of dragon nip with Stormfly. You take in your new surroundings.

An overhang of rock above your head casts a shadow past the entrance to a grotto, from which the sound of tumbling water echoes. Where the overhang ends, a sand beach begins, foaming saltwater rising and falling easily. Between the grotto and the beach clusters of wildflowers wave in the light breeze, sun-drenched as they look out northwards. They - thyme, peonies, geraniums - and you, have an unobstructed view of the sun roaming east to west across the sky. Harmonic birdsong from the forest above knits into ribbons of floral perfumes.

Astrid must've been lucky to find this place: the overhang would make it nearly invisible from the air and from the ground it can only be accessed via the ravine. A genius defensive position protecting a beautiful haven.

Astrid clears her throat, drawing your gaze to a much more divine view. She holds a bouquet of prismatic wildflowers out to you. She sports a blush, shuffles her feet. Warmth blooms in your chest; you love that she is soft with you.

Astrid had been waiting for this all week. A cold weather front had swept through the Edge Archipelago just as everything else came into alignment. It ruined plans for your already extremely delayed date. Astrid was an active, outdoorsy person. She could only stand so many days resting by the fire, and by that point you shared her sentiment to escape.

"Astrid," you breathe reverently. You take the bouquet from her, savouring the soft gliding of skin over skin. "This is so sweet of you." You hide your smile behind the flowers by lifting them to your nose. You enjoy the sweet fragrances as much as you quietly revel in the knowledge that this is an intimate gesture reserved only for you.

You don't get to enjoy it for long, though.

A dragon-sized blur shoves between you and Astrid, sending you both flying like bowling pins. Stormfly leaps over your heads to pursue them, scattered flowers swept away in her hurry.

Astrid panics and chases the blossoms as they drift closer to the beach. But the dragons, thinking it's a game, run after her and jump into the water, all flailing wings and waving tails. The cavernous eruption catches the flowers and drags them beneath settling waves. For some reason you almost expect Astrid to give up then, but she dives in after them without hesitation.

When she surfaces, it is clutching a few pathetic, limp, raggedy stems. Astrid looks about as dejected as they do. Nevertheless she plows through the waves to return to you. You meet her where the water laps at her ankles. 

You take the stems from her, regard them for a moment, and then pull Astrid in for a deep kiss. You try to pour as much of the love you are feeling into the kiss; try to convey how much you appreciate every big and small gesture she's made, today or any day. 

When you separate she seems much happier than her Aphrodite-esque emergence from the water, so you count the success.

The dragons continue playing in the water, but now your girlfriend needs to dry off in the sun, so you pull her down to sit on the beach. You take off your boots and bury your toes in the warm sand. (Gods, you were grateful this island was so far south.) Astrid follows your lead, placing her boots and yours a little ways back on the grass before settling in beside you.

Quiet passes lazily like the perfect clouds in the sky. It's a together kind of quiet; the kind where words aren't needed to enjoy each other's presence. Astrid leans on your shoulder, sighing contently as you both watch the dragons play.

"What's this place called?"

"Hm?"

"The island," you say, gesturing vaguely behind you, "have you named it yet?"

Astrid plays with the hem of her leggings where they stop at her ankle. "I was actually thinking we could choose a name together." She proposes.

You smile; a small, private thing meant for your thoughts. Heat creeps up your cheeks. She wants to name it with you?

"Well then, what do you think about…" you trail off, spending a long moment looking around for inspiration. The grotto catches your eye. "...Fallcave Island?"

"Fallcave?" Astrid barks a sharp, surprised laugh. "How did you come up with that?"

Your blush shifts to embarrassment. You shove her shoulder and she falls onto the sand, laughing. Then she stands and pulls you up. Leads you over to the grotto, guides you inside.

The grotto is a whole different world from the breezy field outside. The air is stale; a kind of minty earthy aroma clinging to your tongue. The naturally hewn rock is damp, so you step carefully in Astrid's sure footsteps. The waterfall across an iridescent pool is gentler than the bounding echoes make it seem, only in reality falling a few feet off a higher shelf. The stream trails off into the darkness. This island just keeps on giving; a cave system all yours to explore with Astrid. 

The pool is as black as dragon scale, as smooth and unchanging as glass. Glow worms hanging from the jagged ceiling reflect on the water's surface like hundreds of stars. One of them waves in a ghostly wind, briefly a shooting star.

Astrid bravely weaves your fingers together.

"How about Gildokkar Island?"

You hum in question.

"Gildokkar. Valued by us… Our Island."

You almost collapse. "Ast, that's so cute!" 

You go in for a hug, but she gets to you first. As her arms close around you, a wave of - affection, love, closeness - crashes over you. You don't know if it originates from her or from you, or if it is a spiritual mingling of shared emotions, but to embrace your lover is to embrace your capacity to love. And you happily drown in it.

~[A]~

- love, Lynx